Rajen Kumar
Jun 2009

As I started my car for leaving the electricity office premises, I was confronted by an old man in his seventies. “Beta, one minute please. Do you have time to listen to me? I would be grateful to you.” He said it all as if in hurry. His voice was firm and he sounded confident which is generally missing in an urban begger. My initial impression was he may be in need of some genuine help. He was dressed well in a well-washed and kurta pyjama. “Yes, what is the matter sir”, I answered back. “Beta, I am very hungry. I am diabetic and I must eat some food now. I have to wait here as the payment counter is closed for lunch now. I cannot go home as I have to deposit the bill. I have just enough money to hire a rickshaw.” I could smell the ingenuity in his voice and logic in his statement. Surprised, I come out of the car.

He pointed me towards a roadside dhaba, “I just need two chapattis and simple daal which won\'t cost you much.” I accompany him to the dhaba confused. Taking our seats, I order the boy who was cleaning the chair. “Bring some chapattis and daal and whatever he says. The old man insisted “no, just two chapattis and the daal” and he gets ready for reasoning. “You may be wondering at my state. See If I don\'t eat now I will be in very bad shape being diabetic.” I decide to question him this time. “Did you forget to carry enough money with you or what?” No no, this is not the case, beta” and his voice turns a little painful.

“I am a retired government employee. I did the blunder of writing my property papers in my only son\'s name. His wife doesn\'t treat me well.” But what can a wife do if the man of the house is weak,” he reasons himself and continues. “She gave me money for the bill and Rs.10 for rickshaw. If I spend the money for eating something then I have to walk down which I cannot.

It took him about 10 minutes to finish his daal-roti. Anguished at his condition, it was now my turn to ask him. “Why did you write the property in his name when you knew that your son is weak and won\'t treat you well.” He is quick to answer, “No, this was not the case earlier. He was very good and his wife also behaved well with me. After my wife\'s death, I was left lonely. My grand children made up my loneliness. Everything was well until my son started pestering me to write the property papers in his name enabling him to take some loan for further constructing the house for regular rental income. I agreed thinking my son anyway would have inherited the property, so why not give him now.”

He took a deep breathe and confessed, “that was the biggest blunder of my life.” A dry smile appears on his face. “Now how long  do I have to live? It\'s all over now. I am used to this miserable life. It makes no difference to me now,” his voice was now full of remorse. The old man left me stunned and difficult to come over. “What does your son do,” I asked him. “He is well-settled earning a good amount” and proudly added, “I gave him the best of education. I never faltered in my duty as a father,” he has deep pause and continued, “I have no regrets, however. I have lived my life. After all he is my son.”

He began to rise up from the chair as he profusely thanked me, “Beta, am grateful to you for helping me. I am sorry to claim lot of time. God bless you.” I felt a little composed but speechless. As we both headed towards the electricity office, his departing remarks appeared heart-piercing. “Good that my wife is dead; at least she didn\'t live to see me in this condition,” he folded his hands as we began to depart. I could see a clear defeat on his face and an indescribable expression of anguish in his smile.

Within in my heart, I felt sorry not for the old man but for his son for he didn\'t yet know what he had lost.

The old man turns around trying to make his trauma invisible from me and the world.  A pain personified was walking before me.