Karthik only had to close his eyes to remember the scene. The pre-adolescent him lying in bed, his cover drawn up to his chin as he was wont to do, and looking through the window over his head into the balcony where his father would stand, smoking, after a long day at work. And that distinct way his father would tap the cigarette to get rid of the ash. As Karthik now took out a Marlboro from the pocket of his shorts, he remembered again how desperate his father had been that his son didn’t get into that ‘nasty habit’, willing even to give up his habit, which he eventually did.
But years of living abroad had habituated Karthik to doing what he wanted, and he had taken up smoking as resolutely as his father had stuck to it years ago. Back at the balcony, the same one where he as a kid had seen his father take his calming puffs, Karthik now pulled out a lighter to light his cigarette, shielding the flame from the cooling breeze with his other hand.
Karthik’s father walked in to the balcony a couple of minutes later, and Karthik didn’t even consider throwing his cigarette away as he would have done a few years earlier. Instead, he gave his father a knowing grin, and decided to tempt the old man with a cigarette. After a moment’s hesitation, his father took one, and leaned towards Karthik to let him light it.
The cigarette looked natural in his father’s long, slender hands – almost like a sixth finger. Karthik watched as his father smoked it in and let out a perfect ‘O’ – a clandestine amusement the father used to provide his son all those years ago, away from the disapproving eyes of the mother. Karthik took another puff, happy to be with his father, to be reliving a dad-son moment from ages ago.
Pic : Kr.B. – http://www.flickr.com/photos/narciss/
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