There was a glint of delight in his eyes as he took a deep bite into the drumstick. With his fingers, he swept clean the remaining gravy with the piece of chapati. Slowly, gently, he placed it in his mouth and began to chew.
I watched him gulp a mug of water. With a loud burp he said: “My son, I didn’t know five shillings was a lot.” Tears welled in my eyes. I struggled to control my rage. I wanted to strike him, but he was my father. He left me hungry and penniless.