The Bad Boy's Muse

Taming Rohan!!!

"Rohan, my son. My beloved son, you've got to stop doing this to me and your mother." my dad clasped my hands in his.

"Doing what, Baba?" I arched an eyebrow at him.

"You know how I feel about being called Baba." my dad let go of my hand "I prefer you call me Dad".

"But that's the American word for father and we're Indians," I hissed.

"Whatever!" he sighed.

"Rohan, I know you're doing all this because I insisted you must be a doctor; and you must be a doctor, son. No son of mine will spend the rest of his life doodling with pencils and brush".

"Father, I should be allowed to be whoever I want to be, but it's totally fine. I would still practise my craft in any way I can".

"I don't know why you don't listen to your father, Rohan. Drawing or being an artist is a very dirty job. Spend all your time painting and drawing nonsense and then hoping that people would buy it. You wait forever or till after your death before your drawing becomes recognized. You'll die a poor man".

"Not everything in life has a price tag, father," I hissed.

"Don't hiss at me, son?" my dad said sternly "No one in the family draws, not even your mother's side. This talent is strange and is evil, you must learn to fight it".

"Says a man who doesn't believe in old wive's fables," I fired back.

"It is not up to you to decide what you get to do with your life, Jasper Rohan Arya. You'll be a doctor and that's final. The only thing that can stop you from being a doctor is death and since you're still alive and breathing and still under my roof or out of it, you must become a doctor". 

I shrugged my shoulders and lowered my earphones from where it was perched onto my head.

In lightening's speed, my Dad snatched the earphones from my head and threw them outside the window of the moving car in anger.

"So, what I am saying is no longer important to you, Rohan? Your father is talking to you and you decide to plug an earphone over your ears. Do you have any respect or regard for me? I am your father Rohan, you can't change that even in a million years".

"What exactly do you want from me, Mr Arya?" I regarded my father coldly. 

"Okay! fine you want me to be a doctor, I accept, but to be a doctor I must first graduate from high school before going to medical school. How else do you want me to behave? Should I die trying to please you or you'd rather watch me die because you want me to be some stupid doctor, Baba," I sneered, knowing how much he hated to be called Baba.

Thwack! my father's hand landed across my face. This was the first time he was hitting me. He had never done that.

"Wow, so you've resorted to slaps, Baba. A man who is ashamed of his own culture and tradition has no right to preach to me to become something I don't want to be, at least I embraced who I am; can you say that for yourself, Father? You hate the Indian culture so much that you gave me an American name and insist to be called Baba. Are you so fake and so unsure of your identity that you must make everyone around you suffer for your insecurities?" I was shouting now.

This was the first time I was getting confrontational with my father and although I had long seen it, I didn't think it will be at the back of a moving vehicle.

My Dad was staring at me in shock.

"Do you think my sisters are happy?" I continued wiping the tear that had mistakenly slipped down my cheeks.

"Amara wants to be a dancer, but she's forced to read law and she's constantly punished for failing her courses, while Eka wants to be a teacher, Baba; she has this passion to teach, to be an educator, but she's learning music. What is the essence of giving birth to children who may not explore their potentials to the fullest? Why should I and my siblings be forced to be robots because you have extra cash to spend and get whatever you want?" My chest was heaving in agitation.

I hated getting worked up. I leaned back in my seat since they were no earphones I closed my eyes.

I felt like a heavy load was dropped from my shoulders. My Dad is such a big bully and thinks he can run a household like a military cantonment.

"Obedient children do not speak to their father in that manner," he growled quietly.

I knew he was embarrassed and somehow afraid of all the truth I just told him. But hell will freeze over if Indian parents would ever admit they're wrong.

"What wrong have I done in wanting the best for my kids?" he lamented "A lot of kids your age desire to be privileged like you and your siblings but you all take everything for granted".

"Why don't you help those kids then?" I piped in.

"What greater joy and satisfaction won't you feel when you wear your white coat and a stethoscope around your neck, saving lives of thousands of women and making the world a better place," he continued, ignoring my statement.

"If being a doctor matters so much to you, then be one father. Who says you're too old to be a doctor?" I snickered.

"If I had the opportunity you have now, I would be the world's best doctor. I won't even be your dad," he fired back.

"Good for you sir, I wonder what is stopping you from living your dreams".

"Because it is right for my children to continue from where I stopped and live up to all my expectations but it's a pity that my kids are interested to live their lives in abject poverty".

"Money is not everything, father," I sighed.

"It's ok for you to say that you were born into plenty".

I sighed inwardly, knowing one more push my dad would launch into tales of how much he struggled and all the business he had to do just to make ends meet before I was born. I was very lucky; he had always said because I was the only child in the family that was born into affluence.

"I am sure I would still be a contented man even if I was poor," I chuckled.

"You think not having money is a good thing son," my dad regarded me as if I was a lost soul.

"My mother, God rest her soul died because we couldn't afford an operation which would cost no less than $100 now but guess what, I had to sit and watch my mother die because my irresponsible dad was too busy whoring and drinking to care about his life. Unlike you, I had to grow up without a mother, but you have everything, Rohan. You have both parents who love and cherish you, you have everything at your disposal; that's why every school in India has your name in their register book, you have good looks and brains and you choose to waste it on pencils and paint..." my father shook his head in disgust.

"At least, I would die a cheerful man knowing I could follow my passion".

"How can you leave up to those expectations when you don't even want to complete high school or these drawing said you must drop out from school?" he mocked.

"It's not my fault that bad things keep happening in all the schools I have attended." I shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly.

"It's your fault, Rohan. Every evil deed; from theft to fighting, to bullying and they have always traced suicidal attempts back to you and if we do not put adequate measures in place, you might become exiled from India soon".

I shrugged my response. I was too tired to respond to my father because he'll never change his mind.

"I have decided that since we cannot tame you in India, perhaps the Americans can influence you positively," my dad told me.

"I don't want to go to America." I narrowed my eyes.

"That decision is not up to you to decide, son." my dad's eyes glinted with pride.

I know how much he enjoyed being in control.

"Whoever it is, father, then I am not going to America. What about home school or something else?" I suggested.

"You lost that privilege with this last atrocity. So, you're going to New York; a public school in New York maybe it's time you learn what life outside affluence is." he smiled wickedly at me.

"Baba," I stressed the name "If you're trying to teach me a lesson, look for other means, sending me to New York will not suffice and c'mon we don't want that, now, do we?" I chuckled triumphantly.

"Ah! poor boy, you think New York is like India" my dad let out a peal of laughter "Son, you better get yourself braced for it, and for your information, you'll be staying with Mr Gupta and his family you should be able to change for the better at least after staying with Mr Gupta. He's nothing like you".

"Yeah! I hope so, because two of you in the world, would be catastrophic," I chimed in.

"Delicate line, Son, let's see if you'll have your wits about you after a school year in New York".

"I can be anyone I choose to be, with or without your help. So, please, I don't need to be in New York to show my good side. The problem is you; you bring out the worst in me with your insane and innate desire to make me a doctor, a career and a profession which I have no single passion or inkling for".

"You can tell that to the big bullies in school when you see them at your new school." he watched me in amusement.

"You know, I am actually warming up to the idea of being separated from you and I must confess, sending me to New York is the best thing that would ever happen to me. Do you know what that means, Baba? It means no shouting, nagging and plodding to become a doctor...".

"You will still be a doctor, Rohan," my dad interrupted.

"Yeah! well, at least I have to stay away from you and if you ask me, that's the best gift I've ever had. Thank you, Father." I clasped my hands in appreciation in the Indian way.

My Dad smiled bitterly.

"You'll regret this son,".