Now it is time for the latter. Got ready for school quicker than ever , to follow my dad for buying pack of chocolates for distributing it among the students of 'III " D " . We stopped in-front of a busy morning shop . I expected a bagful of chocolates and i am finally handled only with a handful pack which my father could do maximum in spite of his financial situation , which i am not aware of.

Sharing the stage in-front of the class with my other two birthday mates for a short birthday greeting song and started our distribution . My pack started to countless when i passed through each bench . My pack become completely empty well before a one quarter of the class is left to be given. . Even though my b'day mates helped refilling my pack with their chocolates to distribute., i feel deeply ashamed. I am on the verge of bursting anger upon the shame on my b'day..

" I hated you Dad " ........... for this...

" Excursions " , " Educational tours "... These terms always gives a sense of enjoyment 'whenever' , ' however' . that too a three day tour to mumbai at the final days of my school life before before board exams is a special add on Package . I feel embarrassed be in such a situation dreaming about the train journey with friends , Joyful insights , freezing photographs of unending excitement , an awful opportunity to " Sight " city girls beyond the so far satisfied locales and final days with my class mates.

Everybody almost enrolled their names in to the final list by paying a lump of "1800 bucks" . Still some more waiting to merge themselves in to the list ,even though only a day left for the final enrollment . I am one of those waiting.

The lump sum looks very small compared to the joy , i dreamt of, but my dad feels the vice versa because of the hectic and heavy loan dues and the pressure behind loss of property . I am asking him from the first day of announcement . i maintained a sincere reminder to my dad every day about this than i show in studies.

The final enrollment day morning , my deep drama finally paved the way and i got hope when i got the words " My son , now you got to class and i will come with the money to school " he promised the day was really long , every minute are so much elongated like an hour . Ia m completely detached form form the subjects and classes . Most of the time I am looking at the main gate for my Dad 's arrival from the the building second floor though the class window pane. Standing out of the gate all through the lunch break exempting the "food" . Post lunch sessions are dull behind huge expectations.

" Have you paid the money for the tour ? " one of my friend asked.

I have no words to reply. So , maintained a tough silence.

I am a lonely mister stayed till 6 : 30 Pm in school and reached home with deep disappointment.

" Where is Dad " asked to mom.

"Sorry , He had already gone to chennai for an urgent business issue already in the morning , he may take a week or more to come back " She dismissed.

" Had he given any money for the tour " I asked my mother the "high profile" question with a "low profile" emotion.

" No " She said.

Too much reasons were there that day to hate you Dad

First experience is always the best experience . First time in filght returning form the first job , for the first time to home with the first month salary in the wallet sitting in the window seat is the best moment of my life . It must be the most happiest moment . It must be time as joyful as ever. But........

Hari stopped writing down ...He just throwed his pen harshly over the table with hate and disgrace . Flooding tears rolling down his cheeks and started wetting the pages of his diary in which he is inking so far . He couldn't control his weep for some anonymous reasons . eyes soon become reddish and it now become a more silent cry .He slowly cooled himself down and picked back the pen in to the hand, continued penning down again in the diary with a deep "hesitation" and "grief" as..

But i am returning home for one of the worst experience . I by passed every " first" experience to join myself in the " last " journey of my father . Arrived home with a shock , Only a soulless idle body of father could receive my "salary wallet" and i couldn't do more than helpless and meaningless tears.

But Now I dont know , Why I love you without any reason...........

I am tributing this writing to you ,

My dear Dad

on your....

" First Death Anniversary ".

Hari stopped writing , closed his diary and opened his heart.......