The Broken Promise- Personal Narrative

The Broken Promise- Personal Narrative

“Thirty years ago in this very room, my father told me a few things,

things that I want to tell you today. He said life offers you many

paths to choose from. You have to choose the one that is right, the

one where you never have to bend down, one where you never fall. Never

take any step that will bring shame to your family name or prestige. I

have not forgotten his words till today, and neither should you.

Promise me that you will follow the traditions of this family.

Promise me that you will never compromise the self respect of this

family.”

“I promise Papa, that I will always keep the family name flying high.

I promise you that I will always keep you happy… always Papa.”

I knew from that very moment that I had to keep my promise. My family

were of a very high caste, we were wealthy and lived in a beautiful

mansion in the heart of India, the country of dreams. But now

everything has changed. They don’t mean anything to me now. Just

memories from the past. This is my story…

Having just graduated from Oxford University in London, I came home to

a beautiful welcoming in my home where all my family was present and

celebrations were taking place. The whole mansion was alight with

happiness, music and dancing to celebrate my homecoming. I was talking

to one of my old childhood friends Naina. She was a close family

friend who had always been there for me; I had missed her a lot during

my time in London.

My father clanked his glass and stood up. I was hoping he wouldn’t

embarrass me with another one of his speeches.

“Today my son, you have made me very proud. And before everyone t...

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...said our

goodbyes while my father was still standing there and hadn’t moved a

finger. Not one tear in his eye. He didn’t even see me before I left.

I touched my father’s feet but got no blessing. I waited for a moment

for him to say something but he said nothing.

My mother said to Anjali,

“Promise me you’ll never let tears come in his eyes” She nodded

violently. She gave us her blessing. I held my mother’s hand and as I

moved away, our hands slipped apart. She turned around and said, “Now

go”.

We moved away and came to live in a big modern house here in London

after that. I have a life-size picture of my mother, brother and

father, yet I’ve never turned to look at it.

I have a happy life here with Anjali and my five-year-old son. They

are my family now, and as of my family, I’m left with sweet memories.