MARCH 20: Some things in life can never be banished from one's mind. The good, indeed, would call for erasing them, but then, there are things that simply don't fade away. The good is often remembered, but the pain is rarely forgotten. All you can do is hope to come out unscathed.Like Tina, a little girl I met on a bus on my way to Panchgani. There was a lot her eyes spoke of pain, fear, even tears. An impulsive look at her revealed a soft-spoken and shy child but.. She was not soft-spoken, she was confused; she was not shy, just scared. Scared of what? Her father whose intimidation tactics terrified her. And it took a lot to understand their relationship. For, according to the father, she was ``my world, my everything''. The contradictions seemed strange, the behaviour odd.What exactly could be the reason for the strained relationship, I wondered. Why did she not love her father, especially when he claimed to love her so much? The questions kept ne-edling me. And, I slowly but su-rely realised that there was a lot that was wrong with the father. Tina couldn't enjoy her freedom of speech; she had to think and do everything her father implied. There is no questioning that a child has to follow what her father says, but here, Tina's likes and dislikes too depended on what her father wanted. Even the biscuits and cold rinks she consumed had to suit her father's taste.After almost four hours of journeying, the bus halted in front of a small restaurant. Tina's father asked her what she wanted and the little girl expressed her wish for chocolate cream biscuits. The father ran to the counter to get them for her but returned with salted ones.The expression on his face spoke of disappointment at not being able to get what his daughter had demanded for. The girl quietly took what he got for her and gave a pale smile.The journey resumed and little was anyone aware of what was to come. A little while later the girl was offered the biscuits she had wanted, from a lady sitting next to me. In all innocence, Tina picked up one and showed it to her father. Instead of smiling his consent, he gave her a tight slap, much to our amazement. He didn't care to understand that she was a child and that he was all she could call her own, in the bus. He didn't even bother to rationalise his deplorable behaviour. Tina's helpless look spoke of the unruly behaviour and the frequency with which such incidents were taking place. She ran to the other end of the bus while some of us tried making things easier. The father, ashamed of his behaviour, then got up from his seat and went to get her. He tried kissing her but she shrugged him off.A tensed and uncomfortable situation arose between the two. He got from bad to worse and those tension-filled hours seemed nothing less than a horror film. He hated Tina talking to anyone; he meted out punishment wherein she wasn't allowed to move an inch. Tina was utterly perplexed. All she was keenly waiting for was Panchgani, where she could run into her mother's arms and cry till her tears came to terms with her plight.A new day dawned with lingering confusions of the previous night. Once again Tina looked at her father with a smile. He returned her one and they hugged each other. He indulged her whims and fancies, and minutes later what followed, was yelling. The reason: the little girl simply asked how long it would take before she could see her mother again!Panchgani finally arrived and Tina rushed out of the bus in tears, clung to her mother, and said: ``Mom, please don't leave me with Dad. He doesn't love me well and neither do I.'' All Tina's father was left with were tears. He had come to realise that love could never be forced. It had to be natural, just like his tears.
