SNOW WHITE AND THE SEVEN CIGARS

**RAM**

There are only two things that can extinguish the resentment of a grey December morning in Kodaikanal. It’s either a cup of strong coffee or an early smoke. I take both and settle on my working table, with nothing but the absolute stillness of the early morning as the background music. Twelve years back, I would’ve easily called this condition my personal bliss. But given my current situation, the voices in my mind scream and pierce the tranquil silence.

I take a sip of the hot coffee and try to sort out my priorities of the day and mute the voices. A few seconds later, I take in a deep puff of smoke and let the warm current of nicotine spread all over. By the time it’s six forty; I had finished a thousand words, two cigars and sketched out breakfast. That’s the perk of Nicotine and Caffeine addiction. It helps me multi task. Viswa doesn’t know I smoke. There are only a few things you can talk to a six year old about.

Soon, the sweet smell of toast and honey fills the kitchen.

‘Daddy, I’ve got to ask you something important.’

The sugary voice takes me by surprise. She is up early. I turned around, and saw the six year old standing beside the dining table, rubbing sleep off her eyes.

What could probably be bothering a six year old girl that made her get out of bed a six on a Sunday morning?

‘What is it, honey?’ I ask her as I lift her and place her on the table.

‘Did you like it when Mommy hit you?’

I tried to suppress a laugh.

‘Well, fortunately, that never came up.’ I said handing over her plate of breakfast. ‘She did beat me in Chess a lot.’

Her face locks into deep thought. I finally grasp that she’s thinking about her taekwondo match later that morning.

‘Why do you ask, honey?’

‘Uh, you know I have to fight Matt today.’ She said wide eyed. ‘He’s my best friend and I’m worried if he’ll not talk to me again if I won.’

She was clearly upset.

‘Listen, Viswa.’ I said. ‘This is a sport. If Matt really wants to be your friend in the truest sense, he’ll definitely appreciate you for your talent to beat him up. ’

She didn’t look convinced. I continued.

‘In fact, you are very much like your mother that way. An ambitious mind, wild in spirit and compassionate at heart. That’s a rare combination sweet-heart.’

This moves her. She smiles with pride as I compare her with the mother she has never seen. The confidence sparkles back in her eyes.

After a happy breakfast we march off to the Tournament.

**VISWA**

My name is Viswa Poorani, better known as Viswa. I’m six years old and I’m just one tournament away from a purple belt. Daddy tells me I should relax and take one step at a time. But that’s not what’s been bothering all night. It’s Matt, my best friend/ taekwondo opponent. We’ve always been at the same levels of the tournament but never against each other. Now, at the final purple belt, things have got complicated.

I woke up early that day to the sweet smell of toast and honey. I know daddy is up as I hear him rattling in the kitchen. I decide to get an answer from him. He’ll tell me exactly what to do. Daddy knows everything. Literally everything.

I fight the sleepiness and stroll down to the kitchen.

‘Daddy, I’ve got to ask you something important.’

He turns around surprised. He probably didn’t expect me that early, especially on a Sunday morning.

‘What is it, honey?’

He lifts me up and places me on the table. The mixed scent of his sharp after shave lotion and the cigar he had smoked makes me comfortable. That’s what I’ve always identified as the daddy scent. Daddy thinks I don’t know about him smoking, but he easily underestimates my ability to notice even the tiniest details about him. There are only a few things that you can keep away from a six year old.

I hit straight to the subject.

‘Did you like it when Mommy hit you?’

He tries to suppress a laugh. I wondered what was so funny.

‘Well, fortunately, that never came up.’ I said handing over her plate of breakfast. ‘She did beat me in Chess a lot.’

I wait for him to continue.

‘Why do you ask, honey?’

‘Uh, you know I have to fight Matt today.’ She said wide eyed. ‘He’s my best friend and I’m worried if he’ll not talk to me again if I won.’

I spoke all of that very fast. Like always, he listened and understood every thing I said and everything I didn’t say. I wait for him to continue.

‘In fact, you are very much like your mother that way.  Ambitious in mind, wild in spirit and compassionate at heart. That’s a rare combination sweet-heart.’

What? I’m like mom? A warm feeling spreads over.

Wow. I’m like mom.  I find myself smiling involuntarily.

‘Listen, Viswa.’ I said. ‘This is a sport. If Matt really wants to be your friend in the truest sense, he’ll definitely appreciate you for your talent to beat him up. ’

This is why I need him. He always understands, gives me an honest answer and I can talk to him about anything.  He was the bestest daddy in the whole wide world.

**RAM**

Happiness is watching your skinny six year old daughter thrash up a tall well built boy and win a Taekwondo match. That’s the simplest crux of life. I have to say, I’m a proud and successful single father. As I puffed through the third cigar of the day, I realised that I raised her right and that when she grows up, she can never let anyone get near her or harm her. However earlier this morning, I was not so sure. For a minute I thought she was going to get emotional and let her best friend win.

But I should’ve known better. She was Keerthana’s daughter. She could never be tame and emotional.

Like mother, like daughter.

She comes running towards me with the purple belt and I lift her up in the sky. Her peal of laughter continues to echo in my ear even after we drive away from the stadium.

That afternoon Viswa remained unusually quiet. The skinny little champion was clearly exhausted. We were driving with the windows down and loud music.  Her hair was flying in every possible direction against the wind. I worry how I’m going to detangle that thick mess when we get home.

‘Honey, where do you want to go?’ I ask her.

‘The park.’ She sounds tired.

**VISWA**

I took to daddy’s words. Matt and I had a fair match and I won. I reminded myself that if he was my friend in the truest sense, he’d be sportive about it. But from the way he was glowering at me after I got the purple belt, I discerned things were going to be different between us. I decided to bother about him later and ran towards daddy with my purple belt.

Later I spotted him sulking near the dressing room. It was only natural that I felt bad for him and decided to go talk to him.

‘Hey Matt’ I said trying to break the ice.

‘Hey.’ He replied grumpily and avoided my eyes.

‘You know, that was just a sport. You were great at it too. Failure’s just a part of the game. It doesn’t mean you haven’t got it in you.’

I stared at him hoping he’d say something.

‘Easy for you to say.’ He was fuming. ‘You’re on the brighter side of things, aren’t you?’

I acknowledged it was no use talking to him. He was possessed by the green monster of jealousy.

‘I hope you learn what sportsmanship is about in the real sense soon.’ I said and started walking away from him.

‘I pity you Viswa.’  He was gnashing his teeth. ‘You won’t be on the bright side of things for long.’

I stopped walking. I turned around; he was glowering at me. Even from the five feet distance that sprawled between us, I could feel the intensity of the hatred he was radiating at me.

‘What do you mean, you arrogant loser?’ I bit my tongue after I said the words that only added fuel to the already raging fire.

‘Your father.’ He was fuming further. ‘Have you seen the way he smokes? He’ll die soon.’

My fists clenched. I decided that big-headed git did not get enough of my thrashings and that I should beat him up again.

So I did.

I marched straight up to him and smacked him right across the face.

**RAM**

The park that overflowed with rich greeness  and the beautiful lake in the middle of it was Viswa’s most favourite place in the city. But she was still turned off.  She would usually be running off, making it hard for me keep her under my sight. Or she’d shoot a million questions that I had no answers to. However, here she was today, sticking on to my side, tightly holding my hands and resting her head on my arm. She was either completely worn-out or deep in thought. I couldn’t figure out which one. I let her be. I could acknowledge what a tough day it must have been for her.

Dusk starts to fall and after having enough of the park to soak in, we decide to head home. She falls asleep on the drive home. I carry her in, and place her in her bed and kiss her good night. I sit by her bed and watch her sleep. It must be really tiring for her to be so young and to be so achieving.

Monday morning dawned like it always did. I had to drag Viswa out of bed, get her ready and drop her at school. I never had a smoke right after the one at the stadium yesterday so I lit my fourth cigar, and prepared myself for the tough day that waited for me at work. I worked in an anti-nicotine environment and I tried to get in as much of the cigar as I can.

Nine hectic hours later, I drive back home. I decide to take the little champ out for dinner since we hadn’t celebrated the victory properly.

**VISWA**

I have heard of this number called infinity. It’s the largest number that exists and whose value is beyond human comprehension. I want daddy to be with me for  millions of infinity number of years. I can’t imagine what I’d do without him. After school, I marched straight to a neighbouring chapel and cried. I’ve never been a very spiritual person. Daddy and I occasionally visit a temple or two on our birthdays or other important occasions, but that was just it. Today, I found myself walking into the chapel, take a seat in the front row, close my eyes and pray.

First, I apologised to God that I didn’t know that daddy’s smoking habits could kill him.

Second, I swore to him I’d light a candle everyday is He makes him quit.

Finally, I begged him to give me a million infinity yeas with him because he was the only parent I had.

I bit into my lips to stop the tears, but my eyes continued to overflow and my heart was bleeding. I had Daddy to watch over me, but Daddy had no one. Someone had to be there for him. I hoped an important person was listening.

I was shocked to see that it was dark when I walked out of the chapel. I had lost track of time and realised that daddy would be looking for me. I rushed home.

**RAM**

The kinds of things that run in a father’s mind when his daughter goes missing are the most horrifying.

I came home to an open door and a desolated home. She was missing. I went berserk and rang up all her friends’ places, our neighbours and everybody I knew. Panic, anxiety and fear started to take over with every minute that passed without her.

I lit the seventh cigar of the day, grabbed the car keys and headed towards the door. I would hunt the city, turn it upside down, rip out every pillar, track down every road, find her and bring her back home.

Just as soon as I was near the door, Viswa appeared. First, I felt ecstatic. She was back. Later, I felt stupid. She was alright and I had blown things out of proportion. I did not even bother putting the cigar away and lifted her into a tight hug.

‘Honey, don’t you dare leave me worrying like that anymore.’ I said.

I look at her face. Her eyes were red.

‘Viswa, what happened?’ I was panicking again.

She stood still.

‘Did anybody hurt you?’ I asked with greater anxiety.

She shook her head.

‘Did somebody scold you? ’

She shook her head again and she was still still.

I took in a deep breath, carried her in and we sat down on the couch. I took in a quick puff of the cigar.

‘Viswa, I understand that you’re worried.’ I started talking. ‘But just remember that you can always talk to me about it. We can work it out together, as a team. Nothing will ever come in our way as long as we stay together. I’ll always be there for you. ’

She looks straight into my eyes and glances at the cigar I’m holding.

‘For how long?’

The three words catch me off guard and stab my heart. Viswa’s eyes well up and I understand how hard it must be to be just six years old and carry the burden of insecurity.

I drop the seventh as well as the last cigar and take my sobbing daughter into a re-assuring hug.

__END__