O

"Occupation?", your pen stands still. You look at me. I open my mouth to answer but before that she answers the question.You look at me for approval. I nod the slightest of nods. You screw your face in concentration and write it down while your mother spells it out for you. You have never known me any other way nor seen me any differently.
You come back in the evening and hand me a note. It says that your teacher wants us to meet her. I look at your mother.I pray that there are no problems. She gives me an easy smile with a shrug like there is nothing to worry about. There is  nothing to worry about. I wince thinking of her parents' reaction when they understood what she was up to. My parents have all but disowned me. They don't usually talk to me in public. You have always wondered why grandma and grandpa don't smile as much when I am there.
We reach the Teachers room. The teacher comes out. She is astonished seeing me but manages to hide it well. We explain the situation at home. She understands now. She is baffled but she understands where we are coming from. Just then another teacher comes out and spots us She rushes over.
"Can I have your autograph?", she asks me. I oblige.
 I was an actor. But not anymore. Your mother used to stay at home- home maker they called her. It was fine for a woman to be a "domestic manager". But when she decided to pursue her dreams of business and politics, I readily gave up the tinsel world that I had reigned in, but grown tired of. Now they don't quite understand.
A stay-at-home Dad! You write that on your information sheet and your teacher wants us to meet her. I look at my wife, your mother- hoping that she will bring a change that people so need; in their thoughts, in their life, in the society. I full heartedly support her. And I relish my role as your father, the protector and the homemaker.
Yet some don't understand.