‘When you say nothing at all…’ Write a post with this line in it.
"When you say nothing at all....what do I conclude ? I repeated this question but my son stood rooted to the ground, twitching his fingers around the handkerchief.
My husband , a silent spectator to my interrogation session , rose from the chair and separated both of us.
"Rahul go to your room".
Then turning towards me , he said, " Do not panic. Leave him alone".
Rahul's coach had complained that Rahul was not attending the coaching sessions for the past week.
I turned the door knob silently, making as little noise as possible. He was in the bathroom and won't be out for another 15 minutes.
I searched his small satchel bag that contains a water bottle, band-aid strips, a napkin.
I opened his drawers and cabinets. I quickly searched his school bag. I had almost finished searching every nook and corner of his room but found nothing. Cigarettes , drugs or a photograph of a girl. My head was spinning. Was he involved in............Oh no!
My experiences working with teen-aged children in the rehabilitation department made me suspicious on the subtle signs of fibbing.
The next day he went out to play with his satchel flung on one side of his shoulder, then I followed him stealthily , keeping safe distance between us as not to arise suspicion. He took a left turn , while I trailed behind him. He reached the tall gates of the community center and looking behind, he stopped for a while. I hid behind a tall tree . The detective in me was doing a good job, thought I.
He entered the gates and I followed him. The long corridor with rooms on either side confused and subsequently irritated me . I kept peeping into each room where a number of activities were in progress.
What was he doing in the community center? I wondered. Reaching the last room at the end of the corridor, I was a mixed bag of surprise , shock and shame all rolled into one. Everything was a blur as my eyes were moist. I repented for doubting him and chided myself for not trusting my own flesh and blood. I turned around and tiptoed . A social worker greeted me. And told me how a young boy had joined the community center , sacrificing his playtime with his friends and was reading out to a blind boy to prepare for his exams.My heart swelled with pride as this young Samaritan was my boy.
The years of working in a rehabilitation center interacting with hard-core drug addicts had hardened the human being in me and I perceived the whole world with jaundiced eyes.
Tonight I will apologize to my son.