Rajeev Verma
I remember the time around your birth vividly. My waters from eyes had broken and as there were no signs of contractions, you were induced and arrived the following afternoon at 1.35 m – all 3.6 kg of you on 11th April. When I held you for the first time, you were truly the most beautiful and perfect thing I had ever seen. Everything and everyone else looked dirty and jaded but you looked and smelled and felt like perfection. I have loved you unreservedly since that moment.
Time passed. During your adolescence, you were growing increasingly troubled. The turbulence between your dad and your mother, I realise now, had a deep and lasting impact on you. For that I am truly sorry.
From 14, you looked lost. You moved out – fiercely maintaining your individualism and your independence. I did not stop you, as having you live at home was really hard by then.
I have watched you grow. Celebrated the arrival of my two beautiful children. Delighted at how I embraced fatherhood; my capability, even-temperedness, calmness and kindness.
Then the dark clouds. Desperate money problems due to construction of house, about to relationship breakdown, overburden of emi, peacelessness, chaos due to neighbours and my loneliness. And, finally, the now realisation that you, my lovely son, a smoker and alcoholic, living a most appalling life.
Over the past years, I have watched you systematically destroying yourself. Sometimes it has felt too difficult to bear.
You had broken your body by accident many times, reasons I know very well. But I don’t allow my hopes to rise.
I always hope to have any one meal out of three servings in a day when you are here. I have never heard your laugh and smile together while talking with me.
I recognise and welcome the feeling of normality that is not normal for us.
It is a good time.
We go our separate ways, but you are always in my thoughts. I will not leave you alone till I am alive.
Love you
Your father.
RAJEEV VERMA 