The boy who wanted to be a “magic-tian” – remembering my father


There was a little boy – the youngest in the family – growing up in a huge house, with a busy doctor father, and a proud and somewhat indifferent mother. His mother had kind of handed him over to her widowed sister, who had taken shelter in her house after her rich and debauch husband passed away, leaving her in the lurch, childless and desolate. The widow embraced this little boy as a gift against all her lost children.  Her husband’s waywardness and debauchery had ensured that she carried full term and gave birth to stillborn children. The little boy lapped up the attention and affection that his aunt showered on him.  His mother had scant time for him or any other children; she was busy managing a large household, and playing nurse and companion to her much respected doctor husband.