The Class of '18

Rubhen D'sa

From the earliest childhood he had only one dream - to not live a life his drunkard father did.

Born in a middle class family, infant Rubhen never complained how much the rubber bands put on the calf ends of the old socks he wore, to not let them wrinkle and fall, ached.

Carrying his precious milton bottle around his neck- of which his mother repeatedly reminded to take good care of, young Rubhen D'sa walked the gates of St. Francis De Sales School, wearing faded over sized white shirt and equally faded green shorts, a mop of black hair on his slender body and a piece of paper saying 'Class 1 D' pinned to his shirt.

Of his father, he knew not much. When asked, his mother, Beatrice Monika D'sa, said he was an accountant.

"Chartered Accountant?" the elder of the boys and teachers would question him of which his mother didn't taught a reply.

He would nod not knowing what either of those words meant.

His father, a quiet and unsocial person in the morning would turn into an abusing drunkard in the evening in no time.

On second Saturdays, Sundays and on holidays when his friends would cry happiness, he would feel not going home, only to see his father merry making to other's misery.

His mother, a nurse at AIIMS,New Delhi, was a hard working and a supporting mother. Though not enough, she gave everything she could for the happiness of her two children-Rubhen, and seven years elder to him brother, Rohan D'sa.

Rubhen grew up fast. Too soon for his father to take notice or calculate how old his son was.

By much appreciation in class on a diary entry exercise, Rubhen D'sa decided that he would one day become an author.

An all rounder, Rubhen excelled in academics, music, fared well in sports. On intervals and on class bunks, he and his friends would sit on the galleries with a guitar and a crowd that cheered.

It was 3rd March, 2012, a usual Saturday for Rubhen. In the afternoon, top songs of Green Day were being aired on Vh1. Volume was on its top notch to subdue the momentary abuses.

After a series of fights, at around five in the evening, his father, Walter D'sa, walked out of the house, wearing a faded yellow polo shirt with an orange collar, brown trousers and white Relaxo slippers, trying to maintain his body balance.

Among the series of assumptions for his not returning home that night, the top most were, he went to his friend's or colleague's place or was probably sleeping in one of the nearby parks. One theory that struck Rubhen was he could have been by now in jail.

The next Sunday morning, Rubhen and his mother walked to attend the Holy Mass at Our Lady Of Graces Church.

"Probably he is sleeping in a park. Will return by evening." said Rubhen in a faint voice, hoping that his words come true. 

The questions on his whereabouts was a hot topic that afternoon. Fourteen year old Rubhen was proved wrong as no arrivals were made that evening, no bell was rung, no bolts knocked.

At around 9:25 p.m. Beatrice D'sa and Rohan rushed to the nearby police station after the latter had come across an online news headline.

When Rubhen was alone at home, he went through the day's newspapers, where it said: 'Middle aged man jumped from the metro station'

"How did your father die?" was the second question anyone thereon asked all his life.

"Accident" he would lie everytime, just the words her mother had taught him to say.

More than sadness and loneliness, there was a guilt and humiliation that stayed with him all his life - A humiliation that his father committed suicide.  

It was at that moment, Rubhen realized he had to be successful now more than ever.

After taking up commerce with maths in the high school, he worked hard, both in academics and extra-curricular activities. The school remembered him as 'The Boy with eleven years of 100% general attendance'.