Yesterday was Father’s Day, which made me remember a story I told prisoners in a jail about another father. It so happened that a team invited me to visit a prison in Mumbai. What I saw that day in that prison was a sense of sadness. I had expected tough gangsters to be strutting around ready to pounce on me and hold me hostage, but instead, all over were men remorse written all over their faces.

This was a TV ad a few years ago: A little girl stares out of the window of an old car, looking lost and lonely, stares forlornly at her father and asks, “Why doesn’t anybody look at me dad?”

Dear father is concerned! His heart reaches out to his beloved child; he rushes to the bank, empties his savings, goes to a car dealer and buys the biggest car available in the showroom. And then little girl is shown smiling in the big, fancy car as everyone on the road stares at her.

 “This new doctor at the hospital is good, really good,” said Aunt Susan as she hobbled over to my mother and gave her a hug.

 “You took your time visiting him didn’t you?” complained my mother.

 “Ah well! After he gave me my medicine I went and saw Carol!”

My morning cuppa’s been getting some good press lately: Last week she was featured as a preventive for diabetes and then the papers reported that a cup a day keeps memory loss at bay!

Ha! And to all those people who’ve stared at me as I sip my daily addiction do I hold such cuttings up, though I’ve never needed to bolster or sustain my deep love and bonding for my cup that cheers through press or scientific reasoning!.

 “Mother!” cried the little girl, “I don’t want to go to college anymore! The lecturer called me an idiot!” The mother left her cooking and walked over to where her daughter sat, “And are you one?”

 “I don’t know!” whispered the girl and the mother watched sadly as a tear rolled down her pretty face, “Maybe I am!”