Growing up

The rain came down in sheets. Interspersed by flashes of lightning and explosive thunder, it did not look like it was going to stop anytime soon. I glanced at my watch. Another 30 minutes before school finishes. Cycling home in the rain was not going to be pleasant . I was just recovering from a bout of flu.

And then, a figure in a rain coat, soaking wet, appeared just outside the door. The unexpectedness dazed me for a while. I could not place the face. Then it struck me. Could it be?

Yes it was. My father was standing by the door, soaking wet, trying to discretely hand me a raincoat. I took it gratefully, without a word. The next moment he was gone. I could picture him, getting on his motorbike, riding home in the rain.

But for all his discretion, my teacher had seen him. And so had a few of my classmates. There was much laughter and teasing. "Mark's father brought him a raincoat". The feeling of gratitude quickly turned to gross embarrassment. It was overpowering. Why did father have to do that ? The rain wouldn't kill me. In any case, it would have stopped soon.

And the teacher compounded the embarrassment. "Mark's father cares so much for him. He came in the rain so that his son wouldn't get wet." My God. I wished I could just disappear from the face of the earth.

"When a child is embarassed by his parent, it just means that the child has not lived long enough" - Mitch Albom