In response to daily post’s one-word prompt : Cowardice
We spent a number of years in cities where the language was different from our own. My Dad was a civil servant, and he was required to live where he worked which was not Bangladesh.
Our school mates knew we were Bengalis, it didn’t make a difference to them for we spoke their language and they were pleased with that.
But in our school there were bullies who always picked on my brother, one day he was beaten badly by one of them, he came home crying, when my Dad asked what happened, he told him one of the boys in school beat him up.
My father was disgusted, he said, “you must never come home crying, I do not like a coward, you need to fight back, or else they’d enjoy hurting you.”
That was the last time my brother came home crying.