After few days, my father came home early at 10, night. He was drunk as habitual, he was slapping my mother as usual. I was commanded to keep staring my mother from upstairs (which was fenced by guard) by my respected disabled healthy mom with perfect hands and legs but no mouth to speak for her rights. My easy but hard job was to be quite and keep staring what my mom was enduring. It was painful for her. The one who taught to grow up as a "Good" man. Sorry mom Sorry.
A week later, that man gobbled a mouthful of blood from his mouth, it was reported that his liver was stark damage.
On 21 August 1993. Ladies and gentleman, the happiest day of this weird mad person life. His father was dead. My father was dead. That man was dead.
Nevertheless, I had to wept for the ritual funeral sake, for the sake of hypocrites or otherwise I would bring a cake and enjoy saying 'my hopeless dad of unknown died'
The day I shall never forget. Sad I never ever was for his dead. I am lunatically happy for the demise of my graveyard father. Oh! My father! Bye father! Unwanted father! May you never live in peace.