Page 19 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

guffawed and read it twice. So much care and so much love from my village friend. But I couldn’t go to play as we
had split the team. I didn’t get a letter from thereafter.

***

In his mid-forties, Ap Sangay’s hair had turned gray. He chewed on betel leaves like a goat ruminating grass. He
smudged the lime on window frames, doors, columns, and everywhere his hand could lie on. That irked me. And I
hated his frequent visit to our place.
It was early in the morning when he flung open the door. “What’s up, Mr. Phugay?” he said.
Dad startled and edged away on the bed. “Fine. Come, please.”
He settled down next to Dad. “Mr. Phugay, there’s something I should ask. Why don’t you remarry?”
“I can’t,” said Dad. “It’s not even three years since my wife has passed away.”
“Remarry?” I blurted, frowning.
Ap Sangay gave me prowling eyes. “Sorry, kid, not meant to offend you.”
“I am not a kid, for your information,” I said. “I’m twelve, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
He scowled and turned back to Dad. “Tell you what, three years have passed, but nothing has changed in your
life. Problems aggravated. You need someone to help with the household chores, Mr. Phujay.”
“I can’t,” said Dad. “My kids are still young.”
“Kids are suffering, too,” he said. “They need a mother to take care of.”
Dad shook his head, glancing at me.
I glared at Ap Sangay. I was old enough to fathom step-mothers played a witch’s role in kids’ lives.
A few days later, he returned with another matchmaker. “Mr. Phugay, we arranged a woman for you.”
“Excuse me,” I said. “You can’t induce my dad. He doesn’t want to remarry. Why are you insisting on him?”
“Stay away from this, kid. You know nothing about it.”
“You stop bothering our lives,” I said. “Who the hell are you?”
Mouth wide open, he said, “You need a mother to take care of you and your brothers, kid.” Turning back to
Dad, he said, “You will like her. She is your late wife’s half-sister.”
“My mom’s half-sister?” I exclaimed. “How could that be possible? No way!”
“Ask your grandpa, kid,” he said.
“Grandpa said nothing about that.”
“Just ask him.” He turned to Dad. “What do you say, Mr. Phugay?”
Dad glanced at me and said, “I need time to think.”
“I am glad you consented to my proposal, my friend,” said Ap Sangay. “You don’t need time to think.”
“What? Dad needs time to think? Meaning he wants to remarry?” I muttered and stomped away. “Here begins
the trouble.” I turned back and said, “I am going, Dad.”
“Where?” he asked.
“Anywhere.” But I could go nowhere and returned home when the dusk fell. I sat beside Dad and sighed. “Are
you going to remarry, Dad?”
He shrugged his shoulder. “I don’t know.”
“Please don’t,” I said. “Remarrying means extra burdens for you, Dad.”
“I know.”
When I returned from the winter vacation, two months later, I saw a young woman peeping through the
window. As the door creaked open, she turned her head in my direction.
“Could she be my step-mom?” I said to myself. “But she is too young to be a stepmother.”
She peeped through the window. So, I walked away to play with friends. A few months later, she moved to her
village and never returned. So, Dad went to her place every weekend for almost three months.
“Dad, why don’t you tell Step-mom to stay with us?” I said. “It’s risky for you to travel in the high mountains.”
“She has farm work to do,” he said.
“But—”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “She would join us soon.”
“When? She leaves even if she comes.”
“Stop bothering me!” he blurted and walked away.
When Step-mom came, I would go out to play and returned home late in the evening. I felt better in the evening
breeze. I enjoyed watching kids running across the street, screaming and laughing. That made me forget the bad
things in my life.
“You’re always late,” said Dad, one day. “What’s happening?”

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