Shall I say Home Truths?

I am trying to write about my father, who is right now sitting in the next room trying to watch third India Australia ODI with undiminished enthusiasm, inspite of constant wicket fall on Indian side. I had promised Fortunata that I will write about my father in my next post, but later on I realized that it will be so much difficult to even give a snapshot of his personality in some 800 words. But, surely, I will try.

He was the person who married my mom and brought me and my sister to this earth. The reason I am stating this fact is that it was no ordinary arrangement. The marriage was his second and first for my mother. There are different versions of the story told by different people on why they got married. Different reasons and rationalization were handed out to explain this unlikely match. I still have not been able to collate all versions together and form an arc. I think Love Marriage is what people used to call this arrangement in places I grew up, and it was sacrilegious and forbidden for most of them. I was so much embarrassed by this word: love marriage. Everybody felt, at the time of their liaison, that it was nothing out of place. Many others have done this in the past and many will do, and it is just a matter of time before he leaves her for his 'legitimate' wife.

Our lives were in a constant state of paranoia, what if he actually does it, leaving two children with a woman with no income or fortune or a home to return to.

But, he never did it. And yes, I am thankful to him for that.