The boy who choose..

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“In this life, we have to make many choices. Some are very important choices. Some are not. Many of our choices are between good and evil. The choices we make, however, determine to a large extent our happiness or unhappiness, because we have to live with the consequences of our choices by James E.Faust.” he murmured. He was laying on his chest near the window, daylight falling on his fine brown hair making them shimmer and shine. Reading his favorite book was a great solution for his every problem. After reading that quote, he closed the book and laid on his back. He was in deep thoughts, after all he had no clue what he will do next. “Jaffar! Downstairs now.” his father called him. He suddenly sat up straight in alarm.

Jaffar was a young man in his early 20’s, tall and handsome, golden brown hair that he used to sweep back. His cheeks were chiseled like a finely-carved Michelangelo statue. The rays of sun highlighted the dimples in his cheeks and chin. He was ambitious and intelligent. He had plans for his life, plans he dreamt of fulfilling ever since he grew up. He was the only child, but never had the pleasure of getting the affection from his father he thought he will. His mother died at his birth. Ever since then he saw his father around him, his only parent. His father, Mohsin, was a land lord, owning half of the land of their village. He was not an educated person, but his intelligence and insight had let him achieve so much that many men envied him. He was a tough man with athlete build and charismatic personality. His word was like carving on a stone. No one had the courage to refuse him, he had his own rules but still he was the hero of the villagers. Regardless of his hulk like physique, he had soft corner for helpless people.

It was Sunday morning, the only day when he used to wake up late, and did all his piled up chores. *Knock*,*knock*, “Come in.”, he said from under his pillows. “Sir, your father is calling you in his room.” His servant came in and said. “Oh! I will be ready in 2 minutes.” He said in a half sleepy tone. After 5 minutes, he was sitting in front of his father. Looking down on his feet, playing with his fingers nervously, he knew it’s never been a good sign being called by his father like this. His father cleared his throat and started, “Do you have any idea what am I going to talk to you about?” he asked in his deep husky voice. Jaffar nodded in denial. Mr Mohsin began, “Well its about your future, I have been giving it a thought for the past few days. And I have concluded that…” Jaffar felt his heart sinking; knowing that whatever he will say will be the final words. “You are listening or not?” his father asked him bit loudly. “Yes, Yes I am listening.” He replied. “Well, I am arranging your engagement then. You remember Uncle Rahim’s daughter right?” he asked politely and sounded hopeful. Jaffar was blank he had no idea what to answer. Rather than replying his question he told him that he doesn't want to marry yet. “Jaffar, are you in your senses? Do you have any idea, what you are saying no to? Besides what else is left that you want to do.” He howled in anger. Jaffar didn't say a word more and listened to him, till he calmed down and asked him to think before jumping to anything. He left his room with “Yes, Dad. But I know my answer will be same.”He saw disappointment on his father’s face. Something he was familiar to all his life

His definition of wife was very different. Whenever his friends asked him about getting married, he ended the conversation with, “I want to marry a girl not a robot.” he wanted a girl with whom he could share his thoughts with. Who will take interest in his work and his research, who won’t just listen to him and obey rather give her opinion too. He never wanted someone to linger himself with and spend rest of his life without any understanding between each other. Uncle Rahim was his father’s childhood friend. His daughter, Lyla, was one of the beautiful ladies in town but she was too traditional. Any other guy in his place would have said yes right away. But it was him. He didn't think like everyone else. He never praised perfection, rather got attracted to intelligence and strong will of achievement.

That night, he couldn't sleep. Mr. Mohsin had never deprived him of anything, gave him the best of everything but his affection. He always knew, he was a disappointment to his father. He was nothing like him. He wasn't strong, and bold, he wasn't into sports. He wasn't fearless like him. He did not have leadership qualities. His father never had to tell him that, but being deprived of one thing he had hunger for was enough to clear everything. Now when he had asked him for one thing, he refused to it too. It was time; he had to make a choice between getting his father’s love, and running for his future. He was stuck in between, guilt was overtaking him. it was almost dawn, and he still didn't reach to any conclusion. That’s when he got up and started reading his favorite book, which he had found in his mother’s library on his 8th birthday.

“Yes, Dad” he descended down the stairs from his room. His father was sitting on the dining table reading his newspaper and eating his usual chapatti and fried egg. He gave him a strange look after hearing him and put down the paper. “So have you thought anything or your answer is still same?” he asked in a sarcastic tone. First he thought of telling him, what he feels and what kind of girl he wants, but refrained himself. He knew there will be no point in reasoning with his dad. He gathered all his courage, looked up to him, straight in his deep brown eyes, who carried no warmth but disinterest for him. “I thought about it. Dad I need to explore life. I can’t do it yet.” With that he lowered his gaze. He felt ashamed; he couldn't look into that life sucked eyes who glittered for the first time on the thought of him getting married. “Is this your final decision?” he asked with no hope. “Yes, Dad please doesn't make this hard on me.” He pleaded. “I won’t, pack your bags. I am sending you to America.” With that he passed him an envelope, pushed back his chair and left. He looked at him confused; he couldn't understand what was going on. With shaking hands he opened the envelope; it was a ticket with his name. Like his father knew his answer long before.

It was 30th June, 2010. He was leaving for America. He got into Yale University. Jaffar couldn't help but smile throughout the drive. He wanted to jump around, hug his dad and tell him that he is the best. But looking on his father’s stern face, he couldn't express his emotions. When they arrived at the airport, his father patted him on shoulder. Leading him the way, he was looking so confident, dressed in three piece suit, taking people’s attention. He himself looked dull in front of him. “Go son, stay happy. Isn't this what you wanted?” his father said to him with a smile after they reached to the checking door. He didn't answered and just hugged him tightly, tears rolling down his eyes. This was the best thing his father gave him. He proved him wrong. “I will make you proud dad. I promise. Just take care of yourself.” He said to him stepping back a bit. He could see his father wasn't happy, he looked pale and like someone drenched life out of him, but Jaffar assured himself that he will be okay.

He wanted to shout and cry out loudly. This wasn't he wanted. He never asked his happiness for his father’s life. After a week of his arrival, while he was at campus, He got a call from his home. It was uncle Rahim, he sounded like he had sobbed before dialing Jaffar' s number. “Uncle is everything okay? Is Dad fine?” he asked many questions in one breath. That’s when Uncle Rahim’s word stroked him as bolt of lightning. His phone slipped out of his hand, he sat there in agony. People were passing by him, but no one bothered to come up and ask him. His Uncle told him, that when he left his father got ill. He stopped talking to everyone. Before his death, two days back he asked to shift him in Jaffar’s room. He had his father’s blood on his hand. Tears were slipping down his cheeks, but it was his burden to bear. He was the one who preferred to choose this over his father’s wish. His father’s words were striking him, the last words he spoke to him “Go son, stay happy. Isn’t this what you wanted?” his pale face was revolving in front of his eyes . he clenched his fists, closed his eyes and yelled “DAAAD!!” one last time.