What if you and your dad wake up one fine morning to find out that your souls have been exchanged? How would it be to live your dad’s life for a day or (more interestingly) for him to live yours?
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Hope you enjoy my take.
Sunny Boy! Stop lolling around and whining time on Facebook,” I call for my son. I can’t understand why youngsters lose their time on social networking sites and I order him to join me for breakfast as I stirred the coffee. I shouted, “I give you five minutes and make sure you reach the table to read the morning newspapers.”
He slowly walks towards the table and his appearance causes a stir. Curious, I ask, “Who are you?”
“I am your son, Dad.”
I can’t take it more and just snapped, “See what Facebook has done to you. Now, idiot, you understand what I mean when I tell you to get off the lap top. How you have aged in 24 hours!”
I get off my chair and scampered my way in front of the mirror. I couldn’t help feeling proud that I look exactly the same like I did 20 years back. I am still in my pristine youth.
“Dad! Where is my phone?”
I look around and tell, “How would I know? Now, this stupid phone of you is such a distraction with internet and all.
The phone is vibrating in my pocket. I take it out and wonder what’s wrong with me, carrying the sleek, Black I-phone of Vishal.
“Here it is! Don’t you dare touch this phone on the table. Have your coffee right now and read the stories on TOI,” I ordered.
I am feeling dizzy. I feel inebriated, still admiring my youthful face and gazing at my son’s grey hair. It just not possible how he has aged in one day.
“I should call a doctor,” the thought popped in my mind.
“Are we time travelling?” I stultify.
He breaks my concentration and I saw his shadow picking up his college bag. “Dad! I got lecture and I have movie plans during the night. I need 500 bucks?” he shamelessly asks.
“You youngsters! What do you think, I nurture a money tree. Try to work for a day and see how tough it is to make money,” I chid him.
“Wasting money on girl friends, booze and movies,” I lamented.
He wiggles, trying to run away from me when I pull him back on the sofa. “Sit for five minutes. I need to speak to you. Have you ever thought about your future? Your final BA exams coming in three months. Go and file for your admission in US. Make your life in the States and you don’t need to come back if you don’t want.
As I look around, Vishal was gone and must be thinking I am blathering. Today’s kids, I tell you, they discard us by accusing us of giving too much Gyaan.
He bobs and shouted at me, “Vishal! Why are you still here and not gone to college yet?”
I am furious and shouted back, “How dare you shout at your father? Have you lost it?”
He slaps me, “You idiot! Since when, you became my father. Just take your bag and move. Yeah, keep the 500 bucks and I am giving you before you ask. Go straight to college and don’t prance around.”
I clumsily walk out of the house and my head is spinning around, trying to make sense. I am feeling barmy, “How come the guy is claiming to be my father? Didn’t I just railed how he loses time on FB? But, he looks like my Dad. May be!
Enough of my balderdash and dilettantish witterings of the silly mind at play. May be, I should stop pretending to be my Dad’s dad by fooling him that I go to college but sit at Barista, holding the hands of Sejal and buying her red roses with Pop’s money. Or else, I may pretend and tell the truth, some day, enough to screw myself.
Happy Father’s Day