Chapter 2

I was born in 1982, my parents were one among the several people I studied to understand life.

Dad worked hard. He had a job that helped us have a home. He worked 40 yrs at the same place. He was intelligent, but I don't know, he always wished things were better but never made an effort. Do I wish that he made more money, buy us more things, make some friends, fight the world, and be my hero? May be, I did. Now I respect him for whatever he did. If he was happy being worried, sad, lonely, sick, I am happy for him. He died before I could reach him, never told us he had heartburn on exertion. He feared hospitals, but I wish he made an effort to tell me. I could not give him everything. I might have operated him myself, provided better vascularisation, extended his life, decreased his misery a bit. I ll never know.

He loved us the way he could, I guess we did the same too. But, but, but as long as I m alive, I wish we could have been better dad-son. Wish I was stupider. Wish I could enjoy TV along with him, or be there every day making life for him, or I was never born so he could spare the time he spent on me and did what he enjoyed most a more. I will never know.

I have regrets, now that he is dead. I had them when he was alive. I think I tried to live his life for him. I backed out frequently allowing him freedom to chose, he didn't.

Maybe that was his choice.

My mom was a piece of art. I thought she was stupider. But she could listen. We told her everything. She had lots and lots of friends. Getting to a strange place, u'd expect her to make a few friends within minutes. People talked to her. She could have been a super therapist. Never did she tell them that she knew better. Whenever I confronted her, she d put a sordid face.' ... but I m stupid.' Till this day we never talked heart to heart, or rather Broca's area to area. She always had her masks.

Wish I could see the lady behind the mask. She is the reason, we kids have careers. She would sit with us, while we studied. She asked us questions, though never knew the answers. Promised us gifts, she could never buy, took a stick when her temper failed, became hysterical when the stick failed, but she did get her results. I often felt manipulated. Her life was her own. Now in a hospital bed, she creates a world of her own. All the doctors and nurses know her, either like her or hate her, but cannot stay indifferent.

Like me.

I studied them the most, analyzed them. I knew I obtained my genes from them, so my answers might be come from them. I tried to have the family, we could share. I wanted us, every part to live the best.

And my siblings, my cousins, and other family, I guess I was a little overwhelmed by the amount of data I could process.

One day when my mom asked me to settle down, I agreed. I conjured an image of my wife to be.My search was futile when I could not differentiate between girls. I met several, on dates, they were beautiful, intelligent, smart, but none liked me. How could I pretend to be someone else and woo while she had to suffer me, the way that I am, as marriage? I know I m not interesting. But I wish, if someone were to be my partner, we could share honestly. I could pretend to the whole world, but I hoped for a girl who tolerated me, as I am, in my personal space. Guess it was too much to ask. I gave up. I was fine being alone.

Then my parents chose her. More shocking was that she agreed. I tried to dissuade her, made myself a monster. Whatever reasoning I tried, she still chose me.