Don Noris’ newspaper

In the 1950s the television was unheard of - leave alone the Internet. Apparently the newspaper was everything to Don Noris Ranasinghe. It was the only source of information and entertainment.

The newspaper was a precious item, not many could afford. People would usually throng the grocery, readying their ears for the elders reading the newspaper aloud. Don Noris was among the privileged lot with sufficient wealth to buy it and read at leisure.

He could do it everyday.

That day, however, he was troubled. His daughter, Srimathi, had taken it to school without his knowledge. Not that anyone betrayed her, but knowing her nature Don Noris could guess it.

Like Noris, his daughter was also fond of reading newspapers. That was impressive for someone of her age, tenderly eight years. So on this particular day Srimathi took the newspaper to school, as her father rightly guessed.

He had two elder daughters, but Srimathi was cuter. She reads it aloud, and stops halfway to shoot a question or two sometimes just to annoy her father. But she could never make him annoyed. Don Noris liked questioning. That’s how he grew fonder of his daughter’s company.

But none of that came to his mind when he could not locate the newspaper.

Srimathi, on the other hand, thought she would be in her right senses to bring it back home. But kids are kids, you know, especially for her being still eight years. She had more exciting things to do at school: hide and seek, and a lot more. They had to wait till one period is over to get into their own naughty world.

“Where is the newspaper?”

Srimathi shuddered at the tone. Father is not in his usual mood. He has not asked her, but barked it out. Srimathi could not bring herself to say what she meant to say.

“Father, the newspaper…” Srimathi paused, gasping for words.

“Yes, the newspaper. I’m asking, where have you taken it?”

Srimathi was too small to learn the art of lying. She was yet to know how to keep away from wrath.

“I forgot to bring it back.”

With her gazed fixed downward, Srimathi was quick to answer. Now his collection will be minus one newspaper. The rascals will never leave the newspaper alone. Selling a newspaper was enough to earn a few days’ living.

Fair enough, he was furious.

“Why did you take it away? Who allowed you to take it?”

Noris did not wait for a response. He stood up, and Srimathi knew what’s coming. She had little to worry. She could run as fast as a rabbit, and middle-aged Don Noris was no match for that.

Running around the huge mansion, Srimathi knew what lay ahead: a sewerage hole. Her father got his servants to cover it with earth recently. She remembered how patient her father was in toilet-training her. She would easily jump over the freshly covered trench, but would her father be able to do so?

Suddenly she remembered her father underwent an eye surgery. It was giving him pains and he was supposed to relax. That also meant he could not strain his eyes too.

She could have easily changed track and escaped the fate. But something disturbed her deep inside. Isn’t she making him even more tired? All the same if she stops, her father will beat her, perhaps to bleed.

She remembered her intimate moments being on her father’s lap, him caressing her hair. She knew her father loved her a lot more than the elder sisters. She had to make a quick decision. She was swimming against the surge of emotions.

Don Noris could not believe his eyes when he spotted his daughter stopping all of a sudden. But his wrath was much heavier than finding out why she did so. Without a single word, he went on spanking her with his hands. He wanted to grab a twig off a tree close by to make it worse, but something in him voiced against that very thought.

Srimathi was screaming, but, to Noris’ surprise, she didn’t cry. She was screaming out of pain, but why wouldn’t she cry? Isn’t she upset about the whole thing? Spanking would have gone on, as there was no one around to interfere. But a sudden thought struck Noris. He stopped the act that very moment.

Late into the night, Noris was alone in his study thinking over and over again, a bit muted. He cared about a lifeless newspaper more than his own flesh and blood. He wanted to ask his daughter if she was hurt, but he had no guts.

His thoughts of regret had to stall, as he heard something. He knew it was Srimathi by the softness of her knock.

“Are you all right, father?”

Don Noris realized his daughter taught him a lesson bigger than anything he had read in newspapers. He did not answer - he did not know what to say. Srimathi could not stand her father’s silence. She hugged him tight.

It was one odd moment of bliss. Father and daughter could reach out to each other with forgiveness.

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