A Father's Pride

Men are but creatures who flaunt little emotion
and whatever little they do flaunt is their Pride

                                      -Saying by Anonymous


Now that I look back I hardly remember him showing much emotion. An occasional nod or a smile was all I received. His face was very hard to judge. It was a stern mask that refused to divulge the man inside.
        When i was very young, i won a fancy dress competition at school and my mother gushed with pride clicking pictures and pointing out to everyone that i was her daughter making me suitably embarrassed. As we reached home, my mother found my father had come from his office early and was reading the morning newspaper. 
          'See, Aisha has won the fancy dress competition at school. All her teacher's were praising her,' she said forcibly handing out the certificate to him. He spared it a glance, turned to me and gave me a curt nod signalling his acknowledgement and went back to reading the newspaper. I was too young to understand but over time i would realise that all my achievements would only earn me this rare nod and nothing more.
              I would usually stand first in my class and academically was way ahead of my peers. My mother would proudly declare that day a celebration. I would turn expectantly to my father and after having handed him my report card would wait for his face to light up, the pat on my back and the words that would make complete my day. But then again, he would go through my grades, look up to me, his face cold. He would mumble some words that sounded like positive grunts and go back to what he was doing. At times i would feel like crying and at times i would be furious. I would yell around in my room and my mother would come to comfort me. He seemed a distant stranger who provided for my needs, nothing more, nothing less. 
              I had decided that i would make him appreciate me and so took to extra-curricular activities and sports. I excelled in them too and went onto win medals. My mother amongst the other parents would shed tears of joy and wave out to me. But my father was never present in any of these events and all i do remember was my eyes searching for his happy face and clapping hands amongst the many unknown faces. It never felt enough and i strived harder. My mother had explained to me that my father had always been like this and so would never change. Did that mean that my expectations meant nothing to him?
               Everyone i came across said that my father was a very proud man, a stone who was so firm that it was impossible to move him. I had been convinced that i should have made him proud enough. But it seemed his daughter was enough. I decided to finally quit for the first time in my life. I was sixteen then. 
                But my mother never gave up and strived to bring us closer. So one Sunday, she declared that she needed some vegetables from the market and i was to take my father for it. He did not put up no resistance and mechanically agreed.
                As we walked to the market not a word passed between us and as we reached it, he walked to another part of it and vanished into the bustling crowd. I sighed thinking of my mother's efforts again having gone in vain. As i started picking the vegetables, i felt someone repeated brush against me and at first ignored it. But as it continued on, i turned around to find two boys slightly older than me ogling me and passing lewd comments. one pointed at me and another giggled. 
                  I marched across to them and soon an argument began. Before i could do some thing, one of the boys shoved me around as the onlookers did nothing. The boys started walking away, when i threw a vegetable at them and started beating one of them, much to the horror of the other. He foul mouthed me and ran away leaving his friend to me. 
                   And then i saw him. My father was running behind the other with everything he had got and ended up catching him also! What followed was a thrashing so sound, that finally the crowd had to intervene and pulled my father back lest he kill the guy. My father's face was a contorted mask of rage that day as he wildly tried to break away from the crowds' clutches.
                   The words that he uttered after that would surely ring in my ears for the rest of my life. 'Nobody messes with my daughter. She is enough for both of you scum. Damn you, she is my pride you get it. And nobody messes with MY PRIDE!!!!