“Appa, I want to attend the class. I feel like I’m losing interest in studies,” Anbu said to his father, who was sitting on the floor and shaving his beard by looking at the small mirror in front of him.

It’s been a year and a half since he attended the class in the school. He was having a good time with his friends in his class, and he studied very hard to get good marks. He was the topper among fourth-class students. He was a very active and enthusiastic student to do assignments that were given to him. He had a deep respect for the teachers and they in return were close with him. They always tell him that he has a great potential to achieve whatever he desires.

“So what should I do?” his father responded in a quizzical tone. He was already feeling annoyed for being unable to run his family smoothly. The auto driver business wasn’t thriving well in the pandemic days. That too he had to pay monthly EMI to the bank as he took the loan to buy a new auto. He was hit hard for buying it just before the pandemic had begun. He knew it was his hard luck and he couldn’t do anything about it. He even borrowed thirty thousand from his friends to pay the due on time. The family financially suffered and only managed to run because of his wife’s earning. She was working as a cook in another’s house.

“I want a smartphone to attend an online class. Please buy it for me, at least I’ll start learning something,” said Anbu.

His father Suresh, splashed water on his face and wiped it with a towel, and looked at his son, “You know how much it cost? Do you know the price of my mobile?” He said and picked up his Samsung basic model kept beside him and showed it to his son.

“I don’t know, maybe it is three thousand?” Anbu said, still he didn’t know why his father was asking about the price.

“It is four thousand, and it took me two years to buy this phone. Because I don’t have money to even buy it. But you are asking for a smartphone. Hmmm,” he said as his left brow went high to touch his hairline. “You know why they call it a smartphone?”

Anbu shook his shoulder and looked at his father for the answer. Suresh washed the supermax blade cleanly in the warm water and put it back on the paper cover for the next shave and continued, “Because only smart people can afford it. We are not smart people. We are poor. The smart people live in bungalows and they have huge money to buy anything they wanted. You can see big flat TVs, big sofas, big furniture and big cars in their houses. They are not like us. We can’t afford anything I listed now. You got it?”

Anbu was frustrated because he knew his father was telling these things only to confirm that he wasn’t going to buy the phone for him.

“Yes Appa, but what’s the big deal in buying a phone for me. Even my friend Ramu has a phone and he started attending online classes. His father is working in a provisional store and his family is also poor like us. But his father brought it for him.”

Suresh stood and beat his son without any mercy in his heart. On hearing the phattt sound, his mother ran from the kitchen to see what was happening. Anbu didn’t cry but stood obsessed about what his father would say. He still didn’t know why his father had beaten him. What was wrong with asking for a phone to attend the class? Did I ask him to buy big toys to play with? Did I ask to buy this phone to play video games like my other friends? No, all I want is to study. Can’t you afford this to me?

“Why he is crying? What happened?” Manjula asked her husband.

“He is asking for a smartphone. Will you buy it?”

“That’s what I’m saying to you for the last six months. But you are only adamant about not buying it. Is this any good?” Her voice was pitch-perfect but not daring him to go against. She always obeyed her husband. That’s why she was ready to take any task to reduce the burden on him.

“To buy that phone for ten thousand? Don’t you know how we are still fighting to earn a living? And you are asking me to buy this phone for him. I can’t believe this. If he stays at home for one or two months the schools are going to open. Let him enjoy being in the home. I don’t even ask him to do a job to earn something. All I’m asking him is to stay at home. If he got bored of staying here, let him come with me in my auto and I’ll show him the Chennai. At least he can enjoy the new visiting places.”

His wife wasn’t ready to take his words. She was waiting to reply to let him know that he was wrong.

“That’s not what he needs right now. You don’t understand the full benefits he is going to earn by learning. If you neglect his studies, he is not going to become what we dreamt. He will just end up being like you. I’m not saying auto-driving is a bad profession. He has to study to achieve his dreams. To do what he desires and do the good things for society. It will never be possible without studies.”

Anbu didn’t want this to end up in a fight. He had already seen a nasty fight between them a couple of months before when his father had beaten his mother because she asked him to stay away from home for drinking alcohol. She wasn’t frustrated because he had drunk, but he was shouting and throwing things at her in a mindless petty quarrel. She was helpless at that time. Even the neighbours had come to see what was happening.

“Hmmm. I don’t know what to say. It’s your wish. But don’t ask me for money because I don’t have it. I only have this five hundred,” he fished out the five hundred rupee note from his shirt pocket.

“Leave it. I’ll ask the owner of the house where I cook if he can afford the money. He is a good man,” said Manjula.

“Okay, have you prepared tiffin? I have to go to Chrompet, I have to pick up a customer,” he said and went to take a bath.

“Are you happy now?” Manjula knelt and asked Anbu who was seen happy after a long time. He still couldn’t believe that his father had obeyed finally to buy a phone for him. He was already dreaming about attending an online class like his friends. He wanted to hold the gadget to see the teacher's faces again and learn subjects that interested him.

“Yes amma. Thank you so much,” he said and hugged her. His mother kissed on his forehead and tussled his hair, “See your hair has grown a mess. You need to have a haircut tomorrow.”

“Okay amma,” Anbu said and flew to announce this news with his friends.

Manjula smiled as her son left the house joyfully.

The next day, she went to cook in the evening as usual. It was seven o’clock, the woman of the house had gone out to buy vegetables and some grocery items. Usually, she goes in the morning and brings whatever is required for Manjula to cook. Today she wasn’t feeling well in the morning and took rest a while, a thumping headache she had for three hours. It was coming recurrently these days and she felt like meeting a doctor to take some medicines. She had a plan to go tomorrow as she had already got an appointment. Their only son had shifted to Mumbai to study MBA in a top institute. Her husband was working as a senior consultant in a private firm.

Manjula cooked mutton biriyani because today was their son’s birthday, even though they couldn’t celebrate it with him. He was attending final exams and couldn’t come to Chennai and visit his parents. After finished cooking, she had come to the living room and seen Murugappa who was watching a football match.

“Sir…..I finished cooking,” Manjula said to him.

The smell of mutton biriyani wafted in the air. His taste buds got activated. He felt like eating it in a hurry. He reduced the volume of the tv and said, “That’s all right. I think it has come out well. I couldn’t wait to eat it.”

“Yes sir, it is good. You will like it,” she said and still hesitating to say something.

“Okay. Do you want to say anything?” he read her expression as adjusted his glasses.

“Yes sir. I want to buy a phone for my son. He wants to attend online classes. So could you please give me ten thousand?” she said and continued, “You can deduct the amount from my monthly salary.”

She was earning five thousand a month, which meant two months’ salary.

Murugappa took a deep breath and said, “Oh that’s it. You can get it now. Wait…” he said and briskly walked down.

Manjula almost wiped her happy tears for knowing that she could buy a smartphone for her son.

After a few seconds, Murgappa came and handed the money to her. Before Manjula had received the money, his wife had seen it as she entered the house. She was aghast and roared immediately.

“Why are you giving this much money to her when I’m not here at home?” she thundered.

“Let me tell you. Calm down Chitra. To take online classes her son needs a smartphone, so she asked me if I could lend some money. I thought of helping and you are here.”

“I know I know. Don’t give me a shitty explanation. I know what this chick did to you when I’m not in the house. After all, they need money and they can do anything for it.”

“Madam, please don’t talk like that.” Manjula’s voice quivered. She couldn’t believe how she could speak like that. It’s been three years since she was working as a cook in this house and this lady doesn’t even know how to respect her. Is this how she thinks about me?

“Chitra…. You are talking nonsense. How can you even think like that? You become nuts. I don’t know what to say,” her husband interrupted.

“Is that enough? You did whatever you want. You wanted to separate me to enjoy with him. That’s your plan, right? You bitch.”

“Madam. Please be on your limits. You are talking too much. There is nothing between us. I asked for money to buy a phone for my son and he gave it to me. Also, I requested him to cut my next two months’ salary instead. If you don’t like it, I will return this money now,” Manjula said and returned it.

“Don’t act smartly. I know who will do what. You don’t have to give it back. You take it for what he did to you.”

On hearing this, Manjula shed tears copiously and her heart became heavy to hear those words. She immediately left the house as tossed the money on the sofa.

“This is why we should not keep the poor people in our house,” Manjula heard these words were uttered by Chitra. Oh God, is this how she treats me for being a good cook in her house for more than three years? I can’t take this. How she could even think like that. How obedient was I to her these all days? How much I adored them and talked about their goodness with my husband. Is this how she respects me? No, I can’t bear it. Oh God please save me. I don’t want to live in this world anymore. But what happens to my son if I die? What will happen to his dreams? Can’t we afford him to buy a phone to attend an online class? How unfortunate for him we are to be parents. If we couldn’t buy a phone for him, we are the culprits for depriving of him his studies, I’m killing his goals and I’m killing his life.

As raging thoughts keep mounting on her mind, she was running recklessly, unmindful to the vehicles coming on both sides. When she was in the home, her husband wasn’t returned yet. Her son was still playing with neighbour kids. She tried to distance herself from the augmenting thoughts. But it was kept buzzing on her head. Soundly. It couldn’t let her stand peacefully. It was dark and there was a power cut. The darkness even raged her thoughts and when she couldn’t withstand that despiteful incident, she thought of ending her life. She grabbed her saree from the rack and tossed it on the fan and tied a knot and in a few minutes, she was dead. The final words she mourned were: God, please let my son study. Please take care of him, even though I haven’t done my duty well.