I knew an old man who loved me, but it didn’t benefit him.
Maybe it was unconditional, maybe it wasn’t. I remember his wrinkled face, adding
another layer of them when he found out I had broken the tap that watered the
garden. He chased me around the mango garden before coming to a halt, panting
and that wrinkled face breaking into a smile. I remember him waking up before 5
AM, completing his daily chores, which I can barely recall, and carrying me on his
shoulders to a bus stop 2 kilo meters away. I wore shoes and his slippers were
worn out and yet he never let me walk – may be he feared I would not keep pace
with him or maybe the way was filled with thorns! I now realized he never
discarded anything without getting the maximum utility.
As we
made our way through the bushes and a wide variety of other flora for about
half a mile, he would educate me on the various herbs that grew in the
vicinity. Then we would enter the cultivated lands of the closest village,
ready to sow sugarcane. Little talk of growing food and then he would point out
shapes the clouds made in the sky and how my school would help me learn
more. He hoped someday we wouldn’t have
to struggle in a remote place. Maybe he hoped to own a vehicle or move to a
place where a vehicle could reach. He knew his job was done, he never hoped
anything for himself. He hoped so that his
grandson wouldn’t have to travel 40 kms a day to get good education, his son
wouldn’t have to cultivate his land with just 2 hours of electricity, his family wouldn’t need to manually fetch
drinking water from a well 40 feet below.
“How much did you get?”
He wasn’t great with numbers but Progress Report from
school would tell him if all that he hoped would come true. It wasn’t his
fault! He saw the difference between his sons and their peers, the only thing
that stood out was education and that was simple math for him.
“96”, I replied in an ecstatic tone.
For him, those missing 4 marks represented the missing
pieces in my future! Love coupled with Innocence is the toughest thing to deal
with.
And turns out, those 96 were enough! We scraped through and
his dream did come true! Or I thought it did. 15 years later, I started working
in a fairly well compensating job for my negligible skills. And yet, none of
this was the source of his happiness.
I was working hard(ly) and was a victim of all the evils
that a city life brings – a
highly active social life with specific protocols
to promote make believes. I went home late, stayed away on weekends never
knowing what kept this Old man happy was the sight of me having dinner at home.
He would wait for my return from office, in those odd days I ate at home, when I
assumed he was asleep – he would keep an eye out from under the blanket to call
for any second serving I needed.
I vividly remember the day I fell while playing football and
suffered a hairline fracture to my left hand. It was a minor injury which had
to be operated on and I stayed in the hospital that night. As I returned home,
I saw him standing in the balcony (don’t know for how long) with tearful eyes
and a fear-stricken face. For him, a surgery is a very big word. People in
village seldom underwent surgery unless it’s life-threatening. I can now only
imagine what must’ve been through that Old man’s mind, even though I still lack
the ability to comprehend why?
I remember the day I received a call from my dad, informing
that this Old man, who loved me more than himself, who cared so selflessly was
no more. I did not react, I did not cry. When I got home, I was surrounded by
people of all ages and places, surrounding that calm old face, every wrinkle
representing a struggle. No emotions ran through me that day. I had no tears to
shed for him. Now when I look back, I wonder why I hadn’t run through these
very same memories on that day. It makes me wonder how far from myself I was
surrounding by all those hustles and bustles of the modern machinery that I so
imbibed to the death of my emotions.
5 years and a fellowship gone, I’m still searching for those
tiny drops to roll down these heartless eyes.
