Not every child is born a retard. Some grow into one with age. This is the story of a man who wore masks all his life — the mask of discipline, the mask of respectability, the mask of intellect — but underneath was only insecurity, bitterness, and neglect.
He began not with courage but with manipulation. At 26, he preyed on the infatuation of a 19‑year‑old girl from a higher caste, twisting her youthful admiration into what he called “love.” He eloped with her, not out of conviction but out of insecurity and the desire to control. What should have been a partnership quickly turned toxic. To protect his own secrets — affairs during transfers and scattered investments — he accused her of cheating, silencing her with abuse. Her sacrifice defined the marriage, while his lack of awareness defined him.
As a father, he was absent. Bitter by nature, he could not stand the sight of others’ success or joy. At work, he stayed late to flirt with colleagues and forced subordinates to redo tasks exactly his way, even when theirs was better. He bad‑mouthed his bosses behind their backs, only to be transferred again and again. His career was steady but uninspired, marked not by leadership but by resentment, petty politics, and shallow validation.
Financially, he was no provider. Scattered plots, no records, no foresight. The only true stability came from his wife, who insisted on one home to anchor the family. That house became the mansion he clings to today — a monument to her strength, not his.
His children succeeded not because of him but in spite of him. Through sheer grit, they entered prestigious institutions of national importance, only to be pushed into a looming loop of EMIs before their first paycheck because he refused to pay even minimal fees. He called it discipline. In truth, it was abdication dressed up as wisdom.
By retirement, he was left with papers, property, and emptiness. He does not smoke, drink, travel, or enjoy life. His restraint is not virtue but absence. And only after retirement did he begin scribbling, not out of passion but out of boredom and the need to look intellectual. His writing was not wisdom but the last mask of insecurity.
The true legacy of such a man is not property or poems. It is the endurance of the wife and the resilience of the children. They rewrote the story he tried to control, proving that dignity and success can emerge even from neglect.
This is the cautionary tale of a man who lived behind masks, manipulated love, resented joy, and now waits to die .. alone !
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