Not a Dream

This is the nightmare:

Someday this roaming whiff of smoke would bring dad wondering into my room. It would be no use then to hide it or smother it into ash. The smoke; the riot of white between my fingers; the loose tresses; the awkward position of the body; and above all, the unapologetic me would break his heart, or worse, it would break his spirit.

The nightmare should end there, but it would not.

Once discovered, I would draw a blank and out of sheer panic would go about arranging my limbs, and be the obedient—head down, chin buried in throat—daughter that I had always been. He would still believe me, he would still forgive me.

Next day he would smile at me; would lovingly pass on the daily; would even offer a lift to the university; and would make every possible effort to make me bid farewell to my guilt… but that man, my father, I know would have lost his sleep forever…

Now Playing:: Raah pe rehte hain...................Kishore Kumar