True Colours

Please dad, I beg you, please let me go!” “No dear, I know what happens when parents give children too much freedom. You give them an opportunity to study and then they start teaching you. I know what my cousins turned out like. One of them is pregnant with a white man's baby and they aren't even telling us the whole truth! The family are keeping it a secret but I know only too well. My cousins never respected their parents and now look, they're all suffering. No one respects them. I will not let that repeat in my house whilst I'm alive.” “Dad please, you can't judge me based on someone else.” I begged. “You can't assume she will turn out like them as well,” mum cried, sitting on the edge of the bed at the other side of the room. In contrast to dad, mum had very young looking fair skin and pretty features. Often my cousins would tell me that dad looked scary. Dad wasn't tall, neither was mum but dad was still towering and had quite an intimidating persona, whereas mum's character radiated warmth. Mum was a small plump lady who was always smiling, had thick, silky black, shoulder length hair and was always dressed in a saree. Dad was much darker than her, slightly taller with a larger build. Dad had a big black moustache which I think stood out most as his scary feature; thick black hair and eyebrows. I sat kneeling at my dad's feet begging him to let me go to university in Rotherham to study BSc Psychology. Everywhere in Ashton, where we live, was full and Rotherham was the closest university with spaces. I knew he wouldn't allow me to live in Rotherham but he'd given me the permission to commute only a few days ago. It was only 45 minutes away. For him to allow me to do even that was a miracle! Today was my first day and I'd got back at around 8pm. That was it! He'd decided he didn't want me to go because I would be coming home too late. I explained that it was because of the enrolment procedures and that it wouldn't usually be the case, but it didn't seem to matter what I said. “But I'm not telling her she can't study. She can! Although I don't understand why. She'll only be getting married and spending her life in the kitchen cooking. She can study but only in Ashton.” He said looking at mum. He then turned to me and continued, “Let this year pass and you can apply next year. This year you can do what you want; stay home if you want or join the family business. There is no pressure for you to join the business. Yes, I might say to you one day that `Ok, I need your help today or for the next few days' then you can come in, otherwise you can stay home. If you yourself want to help, then it's your wish.” He said in his most laid back tone. “Dad, what could I possibly give you by being a part of your business that you have not achieved already? You have a well known name, fame, money, status and a valuable reputation. It's a mastered field to which I have nothing to add. Let me go into the psychology field where I have an opportunity to do something. I will never do anything that you will be ashamed of. I promise.” “Dear, if I let you study then when it comes to marriage and I choose you a boy, you will refuse because he isn't educated enough. You will think he's not good enough.” “Dad, I'm only 18 years old, you don't want me to get married now. Besides, I wouldn't refuse someone because he's not as educated as me. We can't judge someone like that. Dad, I will get married where and when you say, to whomever you want me to but please, please don't stop my university. Please dad, I really want to study.” I said, meaning every word. Tears rolled down my face throughout our conversation. I couldn't accept the fact that he was refusing. I knew only too well what this could mean. The business was my dad's baby. Some people worked to live. Not my dad. My dad lived to work. So much passion and determination; I shared none of this for his business, though I admired his ability to work hard, his stop-at-nothing attitude, motivation and self-confidence. He had refused. I knew this was his final decision. I left the room, went upstairs to my bedroom, sat on my bed and continued to cry not knowing how my life would now unfold. I'd worked so hard to get this far and although he said I could reapply next year, I knew this would be very unlikely. There was no way he would let me stay at home for a whole year without joining the business. And I know what I'm like, if I start something I will put my heart into it and do my best. Even if initially I don't want to do something, I quickly accept it and do it anyway. The business was a dead-end for me and it never interested me, ever. I just couldn't stand the constant business talk at home. That's all life seemed to be about at home. Home - where I lived with my parents, sister Diya who is elder by three years and brother Divan, a year younger than me and one of the best things that happened to my life. Anyway, this is probably why dad and I had very few conversations. Business was all he really talked about; I knew very little about it and wanted to know even less. It was obvious to dad what we'd gained from it but to me, what stood out was what he'd lost. What we as a family had lost. What I had lost.