He sits on the chair.

"Are you ready?" the Doctor standing over him in the white lab coat asks. HE could almost see his nose hair with his head positioned directly under that dazzling operation table light and the besepctacle face.

"Hmph..." He tried to nod but the leather strap bounding his head and the plastic strap in his mouth prevented him from talking.

"This will probably be the last thing you'll remember before I start the procedures." Came the monotonous voice of the bright face, the galsses reflected the white light. Everything looked so clean. He wondered if heaven looked like this, or perhaps hell.

"Mr, Erm.. Chandra, once you've woken up, your whole life would be different. Nothing will ever be the same again. For now, I just need you to relax. Think of green fields and breeze. Think of your childhood."

HE shifts uncomfortably in the leather chair, this reminded him of dentist visits in his childhood, how they will con you into relaxing before the jab, how they will tell you everything is going to be ok before that sharp pain like a drill bore into your flesh. So shocking you forogot to scream. HE felt tears forming uncontrollably around his eyes. It is too late to change his mind now?

"Mr Chandra." Came the hypnotic voice again.

"Pre-surgical jitters is all quite common, you do not need to feel nervous. THis happens to all of my patients. Once the process has started you will see that you have made the right choice. You have made the wise decision."

He leaned back and tired to concentrate, but confusion was setting in. THE lights were too white and too bright. His thoughts fell into fragments. Illogical and scattered. Dream objects seemed to float about him. The smell of anesthetic seemed to be laced with the smell of blood. Perhaps it was his own. Did fear smell like this? PERhaps this was what all soldiers felt before the first charge. Facing the enemy, fear was concrete. It filled a room. It filled this room.

"MR Chandra." The disembodied voice again.

"MR Chandra, I need you to look at me. I am going to inject you now and start the procedure. IF everything is fine, please blink twice."

He tried to coordinate his muscles, but they have turned to stone. His eyes kept raoming to corners of the room instead of focusing. He felt faint. The Vertigo just befor you fainted. Or that millisecond on the rollercasoter just before the dip.

"I need you to relax. Take your time. When you are ready just give me two blinks. Take your time. Collect your thoughts."

THe last three words, seemed strangely an order. Like the preschool days when you understood nothing, but you still had enough mental power to obey.
HE tried to collect his thoughts, but they were tumbling wildly across the room.

He tried to blink.

"MR Chandra, in order for the operation to go smoothly I will need you to focus on thoughts of your father. Everything you can put together of this figure. His smell, his texture, the way you remembered him. All the tiny details..."

THe voice faded away. THere he was standing by the swimming pool. Go on son, he was saying, only it was a silent movie. He kept pointing insistently to the gapping water. The reflections blinded him. There were other children laughing.

You are not to play with my cigars son. The brown coat he wore to work which smelt of a minty aftershave. A large hand stroking his hair. Brown and leathery, soft and warm on cold nights. Pass me that screwdriver son. Riding on sturdy shoulders some Sunday afternoon to ice cream parlor.

Handshakes, pride. Man to man. The silence by a lake, long walks in a forest where everything smelt of pine. Then the bitter disappointment, a deep sense of betrayal and the failure to live up to expecations. A deep resentment. A fragile smile and white hair, and the crispy leathery skin now lined with years.

"Sometimes the best way to heal is to forget, Mr Chandra."

The tears now flowed uncontrolled. His sobs must have sounded pathetic with the plastic gag.

" The Father complex is something we need to overcome in order to have a more complete life, and experince life on a greater plane, to free up the mental restrictions we have put ourselves through."

He wanted to be free the burden of the father. To carve out life without a preceding legacy. HE wanted to see life without being under the tyrannous rule of the father-in-heaven. A hug at the airport. His coat which smelt of stale tabacco. Teras and smile. "This is goodbye."

"Mr Chandra. When you are ready, please blink twice for me."

HE blinks twice.