Dream

It was a seven year old dream and dad and mom had lived it more than I had, mostly because of the turmoil my family had to go through to sustain my dream. The armed forces, The Indian Navy to be specific, was my dream.

Looking up to seniors, pictures in white uniforms borrowed from my NCC instructor, the ship modeling club, posters of warships around my small cubicle, course material starting from my eighth grade, mental and physical exercises through the day, my dreams were splattered all over my seven year school life.

Making through the exams was simple, I knew I had it coming before I even completed my exams. We also knew the interview was where the real tests lay.

For the interview, I was with these four friends of mine. Three of them were proven leaders even at school, the fourth one was a geek and quite simply, I was the dumb guy.

The interview is a tedious and lengthy process involving a strange mix of tests that goes on for 5-6 days.

On the first day, before even I was at the gates, my dad was at the gates, they wouldn’t let him in, and he was in front of the gates unmindful of the summer morning and of course better dressed than I was.

We had a screening test very soon and the only thing I remember about that was that the lady who conducted it. She had a beautiful aura about her, her presence brought serenity to the place so much so even the people who had failed to clear the preliminaries had a smile when they left. My geek friend was also smiling as we bid him good bye.

My father who was now allowed and inside the compound was brimming with pride, wishing all of us in tandem and kissing my hands which is his signature of love.
I was given a chest number, it read '4', I was elated when my mother told me it was my lucky number over the phone.

I managed a fair run at the physical tests; I knew it because I beat one of my three friends on the course. Group tasks were a little hazy in the beginning, but I soon came to terms and before I could lift a log the game was over.

The group discussion irked me the most, because another language (which I did not know) was also allowed, some took to it and I fell out of the discussion. Though I managed to make a few points before the discussion was over, it seemed to do nothing to change the still face of the observer.

I almost thought I had made an impression in the personal interview until I tried to bluff an answer.

My dad was there almost every morning, smiling as always, and kissing my hand as always, sometimes to my embarrassment.

The results were put off for the last day and I did not sleep for long that night, I knew my father was also staring at the skies through the night.

I had a slight shiver in my body hours before we were at the hall where the results would be announced. My dad was of course there at his now familiar table near the giant gates.

The moment came, the results were read, it read 1,2,3,5,7,8.... all my friends had cleared and the whole place seemed to be celebrating, oblivious to the fact that some of us were sitting broken and probably crying.

My worry at that moment was not my shattered 7 year old dream, but my father who was jus a few feet away on the other side of the wall.

When I walked out of the room he probably knew from my face or my excited friends faces, he wished my friends with the same excitement he had the first day.

He kissed my hands just as he had on the first day, he still said nothing.
But I knew he needed one of his pills for his chest pain, I knew I had to call mom, tell my sister, my brothers... I only did not know how...