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- Story Listed as: True Life For Teens
- Theme: Inspirational
- Subject: Character Based
- Published: 09/25/2015
The little girl who hated her father.
Born 1996, M, from Bhagalpur, IndiaShristi - a cute little girl from India, was much like what you would expect of a 12 year old schoolgirl; restless, cheerful chatterbox madly in love with everything that surrounds her. Well, the latter part holds true for Shristi, only with a single discrepancy, that she loved everything around her except her father.
Strange it is indeed that one could fall in love sans reasons or logics. Evidently there have been instances where people have loved things that never existed or things that have ceased to exist ages ago. Love truly is a natural emotion, but as of hatred, it never comes naturally. Ironically, unlike love, it is hatred that could be well reasoned with and in the case of Shristi, she hated her father for a reason that he was an ugly one-eyed man.
Khagendra Thapa, Shristi’s father, was a short statured middle aged Gorkha man who ran a small stationary shop along with his wife. He was a clean chested man - a respected figure in the neighbourhood and popular among his contemporaries. Wearing a tireless smile on his face all day long, he managed his shop with his lovely wife to accompany him; totally devoted to his little family. They say that beauty is internal and the real beauty of a person lies in his character. If even half of it is true, Thapa would be heralded as the most beautiful person of the world. But this whole concept of internal beauty was totally beyond the comprehension of a 12 year old girl who had her own set of reasons to see her father as a source of embarrassment. She hated the way her friends used to mock at her.
This deep set weed in her mind was unfortunately reflected in her behaviour as well. Every time Thapa would go to pick her from the school, she was infuriated and that would be well revealed from the red tip of her nose. Thapa being a rational man said to his wife- ”Shristi is a big girl now, maybe she doesn't like being escorted back home like a kid.” Then one day, as it happened again, Shristi yelled at her father telling him how his looks embarrassed her in front of her friends. Thapa, as expected, replied to it much the way he does everytime - with a smile. But he made sure not to embarrass his daughter ever again.
Shristi often wondered how a man like Thapa got to marry her beautiful mother or why his friends, who were all handsome men, kept a one eyed man in their company - totally inconceivable for a 12 year old mind.
Talking of his friends, Thapa had been lucky indeed. His impeccable behaviour had earned him lots of friends and well wishers over years-friends who were no less than an extended family.
Among all his friends, the closest one was Satwant Singh, a tall muscular Punjabi man. Satwant was an ex army officer who now ran a transport business in the adjacent city. He used to visit Thapa’s place at least once a month and it was quite evident why Thapa loved it. Thapa would take a day or two off from his work and go for long drives or fishing with Satwant. At times, they would go to a distant moor or a riverside and camp there. They would sit by the fire with their scotch bottles, gazing at the night sky, recalling good old days of their youth and laughing over Satwant’s lame jokes. Those two days of the month added fun to the otherwise monotonous life of Thapa. No wonder why he anticipated Satwant’s visit so anxiously.
It was Satwant’s one of those once-in-a-month visits to Thapa’s place. The duo had planned a trip to a far off temple the next day. Post dinner, while Thapa was busy helping his wife clean up, Satwant and Shristi were strolling in the yard. Little Shristi loved to cling to Satwant all the time, whenever he came. With her little eyes, she would curiously look at his colourful turban and full grown beard. The reason why she clung to him was that Satwant was a very good storyteller. Everytime he came, he would tell stories to little Shristi- stories of kings, queens, wars, voyages, punjabi folk stories and so on. He had his own way of telling stories. He would close his eyes and say the stories as if he recollected them from his personal experiences while Shristi would smile seeing his big moustache flutter as he spoke.
“Have’nt you got a story to tell this time” little Shristi asked. ”There is always one for you sweetheart”- Satwant said, although he didn't seem to have one this time. He opened every vault of his mind and tried to recall but failed. Meanwhile Shristi waited as patiently as a child with his platter on the dining table, waiting for his favourite dish to arrive. Finally Satwant broke his silence- ”okay, we are going to have a real story this time, involving some real people around us. ’Weren't the previous stories real’ Shristi asked innocently. ”They were; sweetheart, but this one is more real and involves people whom we know personally”. Satwant’s reply made her eyes sparkle with anticipation.
“Wanna know how i and your father became friends? we were together in the Military Academy.” This sounded weird to Shristi but she chose not to interrupt and listen instead. ”You see, we were young boys then. That means your papa didn't have all those grey hairs back then. Our friendship was often ridiculed by our fellow cadets as our physique was totally opposite. A six plus feet tall heavy punjabi and a short statured gorkha of course looked funny in a single frame.
Post convocation, we joined two different regiments of the Indian army. We remained in touch through letters and rare telephone calls. You know, e-mails and cell phones were not so common those days. Letters were quite dependable but they could lead to funny incidents at times. I wrote one to Thapa when my marriage was fixed but that reached him only after I and Seema were off to honeymoon. Fortunately he got informed well in time because of a random friend who had luckily received the postal invitation. Thapa immediately rang me at my home and expressed his indignation in words that i could never forget. God forbid, if Thapa would have missed my marriage function, it would take me ages to appease the sulking gorkha.” Satwant went into a guffaw of laughter as his moustache fluttered in the air.
“Things were going smooth. Your grandparents too had found a bride for Thapa. The engagement function of your parents was a grand one. Their marriage was about to take place the very next year. But the next year turned out to be a fateful one- year 1999, India faced the biggest crisis of the recent times, the Kargil war. Some intruders infiltrated the whole northern belt of the mountain ranges in Kashmir with an evil intention of cutting it off from the rest of our country. While I was posted in Manipur those days, Thapa got his call of duty from the unforgiving heights of Kashmir.
Our very own lieutenant Thapa was leading his platoon as they bravely attacked the Jubbar top and forced the intruders back with heavy losses-their first step to victory. Thapa was rewarded with an on-field promotion. Captain Thapa had some more stars and of course some more responsibilities on his shoulder. It was 3rd july 1999, as Thapa’s men approached their final objective in the Khalubar region. They were under intense fire from the enemy. Realising their vulnerable position, Thapa chose to lead. It is said- 'if a man says he is not afraid to die, he is either lying or he is a Gorkha'. Thapa proved it right. Disregarding his own safety, he put to concern the security of the men he commanded first. With the roar of ‘hail godess Mahakali’ he asaulted the enemy’s position like a lion and ended up destroying two of their positions single-handedly. He was shot on his shoulder and thigh but he continued to assault and command his men, totally undaunted despite his grievious injury. It was only after a grenade exploded next to him that he fell unconscious. That near fatal burst did’nt take away his life but left him one-eyed for the rest of it.
It took him some time to recover in the hospital. Meanwhile we won the Kargil war. The mountains stood free, smiling in all their resplendent beauty. Thapa couldn't serve in the army any more. However the stories of his valour would be there to inspire a new generation of brave hearts. He received accolades and decorations all over. A local firm awarded him a sum of Rs 51000 and guess what, he donated the entire sum to an NGO working for the blind. A jewel of a man he is. And the best thing to have happened is his good deeds being reciprocated by a boon- his wife. Thapa got married soon after he recovered and your mother has resolutely stood by his side ever since. She has been such a wonderful mate. God bless her.”
Satwant’s eyes were still closed as he finished the story. Seemed as if he was in some other world. Shristi’s eyes were red. Maybe some droplets of self realisation trickled down unnoticed while she was busy listening to the story.
Suddenly a voice called from behind- ”Shristi! you better go to sleep now. Darling, you have your school tomorrow.” It was her father- the hero of today’s story. She smiled at him as she left and said- ’goodnight papa’. That smile came as a pleasant surprise to Thapa, something that he hadn't expected. Shristi retired to her room. Heaven knows that she was the wisest 12 year old girl that day; somebody who had learnt that “BEAUTY IS A LITTLE MORE THAN WHAT EYES DO ACTUALLY BEHOLD.”
And she could hear the faint sound of her hero’s laughter with his friend in the yard.
The little girl who hated her father.(KAUSTUBH GHOSHAL)
Shristi - a cute little girl from India, was much like what you would expect of a 12 year old schoolgirl; restless, cheerful chatterbox madly in love with everything that surrounds her. Well, the latter part holds true for Shristi, only with a single discrepancy, that she loved everything around her except her father.
Strange it is indeed that one could fall in love sans reasons or logics. Evidently there have been instances where people have loved things that never existed or things that have ceased to exist ages ago. Love truly is a natural emotion, but as of hatred, it never comes naturally. Ironically, unlike love, it is hatred that could be well reasoned with and in the case of Shristi, she hated her father for a reason that he was an ugly one-eyed man.
Khagendra Thapa, Shristi’s father, was a short statured middle aged Gorkha man who ran a small stationary shop along with his wife. He was a clean chested man - a respected figure in the neighbourhood and popular among his contemporaries. Wearing a tireless smile on his face all day long, he managed his shop with his lovely wife to accompany him; totally devoted to his little family. They say that beauty is internal and the real beauty of a person lies in his character. If even half of it is true, Thapa would be heralded as the most beautiful person of the world. But this whole concept of internal beauty was totally beyond the comprehension of a 12 year old girl who had her own set of reasons to see her father as a source of embarrassment. She hated the way her friends used to mock at her.
This deep set weed in her mind was unfortunately reflected in her behaviour as well. Every time Thapa would go to pick her from the school, she was infuriated and that would be well revealed from the red tip of her nose. Thapa being a rational man said to his wife- ”Shristi is a big girl now, maybe she doesn't like being escorted back home like a kid.” Then one day, as it happened again, Shristi yelled at her father telling him how his looks embarrassed her in front of her friends. Thapa, as expected, replied to it much the way he does everytime - with a smile. But he made sure not to embarrass his daughter ever again.
Shristi often wondered how a man like Thapa got to marry her beautiful mother or why his friends, who were all handsome men, kept a one eyed man in their company - totally inconceivable for a 12 year old mind.
Talking of his friends, Thapa had been lucky indeed. His impeccable behaviour had earned him lots of friends and well wishers over years-friends who were no less than an extended family.
Among all his friends, the closest one was Satwant Singh, a tall muscular Punjabi man. Satwant was an ex army officer who now ran a transport business in the adjacent city. He used to visit Thapa’s place at least once a month and it was quite evident why Thapa loved it. Thapa would take a day or two off from his work and go for long drives or fishing with Satwant. At times, they would go to a distant moor or a riverside and camp there. They would sit by the fire with their scotch bottles, gazing at the night sky, recalling good old days of their youth and laughing over Satwant’s lame jokes. Those two days of the month added fun to the otherwise monotonous life of Thapa. No wonder why he anticipated Satwant’s visit so anxiously.
It was Satwant’s one of those once-in-a-month visits to Thapa’s place. The duo had planned a trip to a far off temple the next day. Post dinner, while Thapa was busy helping his wife clean up, Satwant and Shristi were strolling in the yard. Little Shristi loved to cling to Satwant all the time, whenever he came. With her little eyes, she would curiously look at his colourful turban and full grown beard. The reason why she clung to him was that Satwant was a very good storyteller. Everytime he came, he would tell stories to little Shristi- stories of kings, queens, wars, voyages, punjabi folk stories and so on. He had his own way of telling stories. He would close his eyes and say the stories as if he recollected them from his personal experiences while Shristi would smile seeing his big moustache flutter as he spoke.
“Have’nt you got a story to tell this time” little Shristi asked. ”There is always one for you sweetheart”- Satwant said, although he didn't seem to have one this time. He opened every vault of his mind and tried to recall but failed. Meanwhile Shristi waited as patiently as a child with his platter on the dining table, waiting for his favourite dish to arrive. Finally Satwant broke his silence- ”okay, we are going to have a real story this time, involving some real people around us. ’Weren't the previous stories real’ Shristi asked innocently. ”They were; sweetheart, but this one is more real and involves people whom we know personally”. Satwant’s reply made her eyes sparkle with anticipation.
“Wanna know how i and your father became friends? we were together in the Military Academy.” This sounded weird to Shristi but she chose not to interrupt and listen instead. ”You see, we were young boys then. That means your papa didn't have all those grey hairs back then. Our friendship was often ridiculed by our fellow cadets as our physique was totally opposite. A six plus feet tall heavy punjabi and a short statured gorkha of course looked funny in a single frame.
Post convocation, we joined two different regiments of the Indian army. We remained in touch through letters and rare telephone calls. You know, e-mails and cell phones were not so common those days. Letters were quite dependable but they could lead to funny incidents at times. I wrote one to Thapa when my marriage was fixed but that reached him only after I and Seema were off to honeymoon. Fortunately he got informed well in time because of a random friend who had luckily received the postal invitation. Thapa immediately rang me at my home and expressed his indignation in words that i could never forget. God forbid, if Thapa would have missed my marriage function, it would take me ages to appease the sulking gorkha.” Satwant went into a guffaw of laughter as his moustache fluttered in the air.
“Things were going smooth. Your grandparents too had found a bride for Thapa. The engagement function of your parents was a grand one. Their marriage was about to take place the very next year. But the next year turned out to be a fateful one- year 1999, India faced the biggest crisis of the recent times, the Kargil war. Some intruders infiltrated the whole northern belt of the mountain ranges in Kashmir with an evil intention of cutting it off from the rest of our country. While I was posted in Manipur those days, Thapa got his call of duty from the unforgiving heights of Kashmir.
Our very own lieutenant Thapa was leading his platoon as they bravely attacked the Jubbar top and forced the intruders back with heavy losses-their first step to victory. Thapa was rewarded with an on-field promotion. Captain Thapa had some more stars and of course some more responsibilities on his shoulder. It was 3rd july 1999, as Thapa’s men approached their final objective in the Khalubar region. They were under intense fire from the enemy. Realising their vulnerable position, Thapa chose to lead. It is said- 'if a man says he is not afraid to die, he is either lying or he is a Gorkha'. Thapa proved it right. Disregarding his own safety, he put to concern the security of the men he commanded first. With the roar of ‘hail godess Mahakali’ he asaulted the enemy’s position like a lion and ended up destroying two of their positions single-handedly. He was shot on his shoulder and thigh but he continued to assault and command his men, totally undaunted despite his grievious injury. It was only after a grenade exploded next to him that he fell unconscious. That near fatal burst did’nt take away his life but left him one-eyed for the rest of it.
It took him some time to recover in the hospital. Meanwhile we won the Kargil war. The mountains stood free, smiling in all their resplendent beauty. Thapa couldn't serve in the army any more. However the stories of his valour would be there to inspire a new generation of brave hearts. He received accolades and decorations all over. A local firm awarded him a sum of Rs 51000 and guess what, he donated the entire sum to an NGO working for the blind. A jewel of a man he is. And the best thing to have happened is his good deeds being reciprocated by a boon- his wife. Thapa got married soon after he recovered and your mother has resolutely stood by his side ever since. She has been such a wonderful mate. God bless her.”
Satwant’s eyes were still closed as he finished the story. Seemed as if he was in some other world. Shristi’s eyes were red. Maybe some droplets of self realisation trickled down unnoticed while she was busy listening to the story.
Suddenly a voice called from behind- ”Shristi! you better go to sleep now. Darling, you have your school tomorrow.” It was her father- the hero of today’s story. She smiled at him as she left and said- ’goodnight papa’. That smile came as a pleasant surprise to Thapa, something that he hadn't expected. Shristi retired to her room. Heaven knows that she was the wisest 12 year old girl that day; somebody who had learnt that “BEAUTY IS A LITTLE MORE THAN WHAT EYES DO ACTUALLY BEHOLD.”
And she could hear the faint sound of her hero’s laughter with his friend in the yard.
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