[Alcoholism]
I always have been a bright student but the financial side of my family chose to stay ironically dark. We ran a small restaurant where we served alcohol of different kinds. We all, in the family, knew the atrocity in infirmities alcohol invites--but a hungry belly never differentiates between a good and a bad occupation, my father often reminded us. We obediently believed in the notion 'Business is Business'.
We used to get customers of different kinds from persons who sat throughout the day to persons who had made the tables in our small restaurant their home. I used to watch them making a quick deal with the devil in exchange for a momentary absence from reality. I just dutifully served them and watch them escape.
I never saw them as persons with families or statuses. I never judged them for their vices and virtues. They ran the economy of our survival and I had no right to judge them. My reason didn't allow. We used to get paid for ruining their life and they never complained.
One evening I was quite off. The college accountant had been bothering me about college fees and other nonsensical payments. The financial situation was quite in turmoil to entertain the college accountant. I, in an absent mind, spilled a little beer over a very well dressed man. I was petrified. He was a regular but he used to drink alone and that was enough to scare me. I was trembling with fear because the last time when my sister did the same thing to another customer, she ended up getting stitches all over her face.
"I am sorry sir." My lips quivered as I sought forgiveness.
"Don't you worry young man. Bring me something to wipe this off of my dress," he said without any hint of anger in his face. I brought him the cleanest towel. I didn't want to leave him anything to complain about.
"I am sorry, Sir." I repeated.
"I understand how afraid you are. You need not be. Alcohol does not control my temper. I do." He said as he laughed to ease the tension.
"Sit down, young man." He gestured me to settle by his side. My parents were looking at me anticipating the worst. They didn't want me to end up like my sister.
"Where do you study?" He asked.
"Xavier, near Old Baneshwor." I said with the fear still lingering.
"Tell me what you want to become in life."
"A Political leader." I said with conviction. The tension had disappeared.
"Nobody wants to be a politician. It is like wanting to become a greedy man when you grow up. Not doctor, not pilot just greedy," he laughed but turned serious the next, "You must have some innate desire of yours."
"I had but I had to compromise."
"I get it. But why a politician?"
"First off, you don't have to sell alcohol. I hate selling people something that can kill them. I don't think I can make money by selling poison directly to people. In politics I can at least make other people kill for me." I replied with same conviction and a little laughter. I wanted to humor him.
"Young man, you are the wisest person I have ever met."
"Thank you, Sir." I said with pride inflating my chest.
He used to sit all night and leave our restaurant only after he felt like he could hardly walk and that evening was not any different. He was an alcoholic but a very nice man.
As the days passed I became more acquainted and attached to him. We had established a strange but a strong bond. He used to tell me stories about rare cases he had advocated. He always had a message hidden inside those stories. I too used to share him my difficulties as he was the only one who understood and gave me sound advices in return to face the problems. He even helped my parents renew their liquor license.
I used to fill glasses after glasses for him and he devoured every one of them like a thirsty beast. He was a source of wisdom for me who came as a blessing in my life. I remember when I used to get selfish and fill more glasses for him so that I could spend more time listening to him.
One day I came home late from college. I changed into my clothes and came to the restaurant. I looked at the corner table where he used to be seated. Surprisingly, he was not there that day. His absence was unusual. I wanted to share everything I did in the college that day because of the advice he offered me. But he was not there to listen. My mom later informed me that there he had left an envelope in the counter in my name. The day got even stranger. The envelope had a bearer cheque of Rs. 74000 in my name with a letter in it. It was from the old man. He wrote:
"Young Man, you are like a Son I never had. I am leaving you some money so that you can complete your studies. I won't be seeing you from today onward. I hope you remember this old drunkard."
Like he said, we never met after that.
[Bruised Girlfriend]
Her eyes were swollen. Her face looked like someone had beaten the living hell out of her. She was shivering with pain. She limped as she had fractured her ankle.
"Why don't you go to the police?" I asked.
"It doesn't matter. He is a renowned lawyer. He will find a way to twist the law and make my mother arrested instead."
"Who? The man who beat you?"
"Yes."
"But why did a lawyer beat you and leave you for dead?"
"Because I was a disappointment to that lawyer," she replied. I made her sit on a chair at a tea stall as
I couldn't dare seeing her suffer. Her eyes melted but she tried her best to veil the tears.
"What?" I asked out of curiosity.
"Yes, that disappointed lawyer is my father. A father who drowns himself in alcohol every night and beats the living hell out of me and my mother."
"Your father did this to you?"
"You should see my mother. I grew up watching him abusing her. I told you about my father coming home drunk every night. But I didn't tell you that he abused me too--sometimes sexually and sometimes verbally. He despised my mother for giving birth to a worthless woman." She paused to catch her breath. "At first, his anger was limited to mother but as I grew up his anger split equally between me and my mother. He always wanted a son. He confessed having to waste all his earnings on me, on an imbecile girl child."
"What kind of a father is he?" I asked as I was filled with rage.
"The kind that God dutifully protects. You know what?" She asked.
"What?" I asked.
"He dragged my mother out of the house yesternight and called all the neighbors out to witness what he was doing to her. He called her a cheater and accused her of having an affair. The neighbors watched helplessly. They took it as another drunken routine of his. They dutifully served as witnesses as he almost killed her. Later he made my mother sign a blank cheque.
He packed his bags and told us that he was leaving us for good. I still remember what he said, 'I wanted to kill you two. But I can't. So, I am leaving you two to starve to death', and took his car out and vanished."
I was dumbfounded. I had nothing to say.
"Yesterday, my mother checked her saving account and she found out that my father took all the money. All of 74000 that she had saved for my education. Bastard really wants to kill us."
I was hit by a realization. The lawyer, the cheque and everything started to make sense to me. I connected all the dots. The man who called me the son he never had was the devil behind her story. I was shattered. I was heartbroken. How could I tell her that it was me who cleaned her mother's account? More than that, how would I say to her that it was me who used to selfishly fill his glass to spend more time with him--that it was me who could have stopped him after few drinks?
I am stuck between loving her and worshiping a devil. He came as a blessing to my life at the cost of my Girlfriend's well being. I am the one who put those bruises in her face. I am the one who dragged her mother out to humiliate in public. I am the one who entertained his alcoholism.
She silently sobbed as I descended into the lyrics of the song by 'Phony Confessors' that was playing on the radio.
"Devils are the one with the standards
Humans are the one with multiple
They wear the skin of an angel
To suck the blood
out of another human."
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