“Good bye Dadu…get well soon”,
the toddler bade farewell as he managed to pronounce only half the words
correctly, slipping as they were through his still growing set of teeth. As his
daughter left, along with her husband and three year old son, the old man
turned to his wife and pronounced, “He is a bright kid, I’m sure he will turn
out well.” She nodded.
Pipes went in and out of him, helping
his body perform the functions which it had increasingly become incapable of. A
monitor beeped occasionally at a distance as if to remind them of its
existence. The patient’s chart attached to the end of the bed mentioned the
details. Any literate eye could easily decipher that his lungs had gradually
gotten worse over the past few weeks.
The trickle of well wishers had
dried up over time with his daughter being the solitary daily visitor. “Thank
God for that” he thought. “In any case it had become unbearable to see all those
sorry faces every day. Only God knows what they were sorrier for, me dying or
they having to pay courtesy visits.” Only his wife continued to stay with him
at all times, going home for no more than a few hours to wash, cook and change.
He looked at her, sitting at a
distance in one of those uncomfortable wooden chairs at one corner of the room.
She had grown frail, her reading glasses, too big for her small face. “Had she
been eating regularly?” he wondered. He motioned her to come closer.
“You have not been taking care of
yourself” he said. She only half shook her head in denial. “Do you know what
your father said to me on the day of our wedding? He had said; never for a
moment will you let my daughter miss her home and her parents. If she does, be
prepared to lose the skin on your back.” She smiled, knowing well enough that
her father was totally capable of having said something like that.
“And what did you say?” she
asked. “I said, I am sorry but that won’t be possible.” he answered plainly.
She looked at him, surprised. He continued, “I told him that I don’t promise
that we won’t have problems. I don’t promise that she will always be happy. She
will have her fair share of problems, like everyone else. I may be the cause of
some of them as well. She may very well long for you and her home.” He went on
to add, “But what I can promise is that she won’t find herself alone, even if
she wanted to.”
Her eyes grew moist. Over the
years, he did keep his promise. At least up until then. It was now a matter of
only a few weeks. He would be breaking it for the first and the last time.
She was still angry with him. Why
had he not told her about his condition earlier? Maybe she could have done
something. Even if she couldn't, she had every right to know. His reasons that
he did not want to add to the existing problems she had in her professional
life were outright rejected by her. Nothing was more important than him.
All she could think was, “Maybe I
wasn't that important for him to tell after all. No. That would be unfair to
him. Maybe he had simply miscalculated? Could it be that he had never even
imagined that his situation would grow so bad? Even then, not telling me till
it was too late was unpardonable.”
“Or maybe I chose to ignore the
signs? The frequent fatigue, the falling diet levels, the increasing dependence
on random pills. There had been enough indications.” She looked at him. He had
never been what might be termed as ‘handsome’
by common opinion. Just a regular guy. A tad overweight perhaps. But always so
full of life. And honest. And now, no more than those machines she had come
across so often in her career, used, overused, misused, sometimes beyond their
natural lives. And it showed on them, just like it did on him.
* * * * *
“I want to study further”, she declared one
day, more than three decades ago. “I feel caged inside these four walls with
nothing to do all day.” He listened. Clearly she was worked up. He decided
against interrupting. She continued, “My friends from school and college are
all doing so well in life. Making a mark of their own. And what am I doing?
Waiting for you the whole day, watching re – runs of stupid daily soaps on the
television, discussing nonsense with neighbors” she said, throwing hands, clearly
exasperated. “I want to get out there and do something meaningful, earn money
like you do. I want to matter.”
“You do matter dear”, he said
holding her hands. “If it is only money you are worried about, I have got lined
an excellent opportunity abroad…” he wasn't allowed to finish.
“You just don’t get it, do you?”
she yelled jerking off his hand in the process. “I have had a sterling academic
record all my life. Ranked amongst the toppers throughout. Those ranking lower
than me are now all doing so well. And look at me. A housewife, a goddamn
housewife!”
“Okay. So what is it that you
propose to do?” he asked calmly.
“Design. That’s what I want to
do. I want to make a career as a designer.”
“That’s great! So what’s stopping
you?” he asked, encouragingly.
“Never mind” she replied,
sulking.
“Why? We have so many good design
schools across the country. I’m sure we can afford to send you into any of
them. Or we may even take an advance against the property” he offered to help.
“My professor…” she started
reluctantly, “the professor at my previous college believes that I have a very
good chance at the best design schools in the world. They are all based in the
US. He said he could recommend me for the course.”
“That is good news. But, the
fees? Will there be a scholarship too?” he enquired.
“Unfortunately not. I enquired. The
departments don’t support international students for professional courses” she
said, clearly dejected.
“And I assume it is too high for
us to manage through a loan?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. She
nodded. “Fine; give me all the details. Let me see what I can do. In the mean
time, can we order something to eat? I’m famished” he smiled.
Two days later he came back from
work and declared “Pack your bags and get ready. We are sending you off to the
States”. “But the funds?” she asked, pleasantly surprised. “O you don’t need to
worry about it; it’s been taken care of. You focus on the admissions and make
us all proud!” he said, smiling. Just like that. It was done. She never asked
him how. He never told her.
The next two years passed by
quickly. She was mobbed with books and assignments all the time. The vast course
work taking a huge toll on her. Daily calls got reduced to three times a week
and then down to a weekly affair. She did exceedingly well though in what she
had set out to do. Graduating at the top of her class, she returned back to
India.
* * * * *
Years passed. She shone like a
star. Success had become her mistress. In a world where only wealth, wisdom and
beauty are held in high esteem, she had all three. They were blessed with a
beautiful daughter too. He did not seem to mind her being involved in what she
did. She always seemed to be so happy. But yes, the distance had grown.
On a lazy Sunday, over a cup of
tea, watching the sun set in the distant horizon, he thought of broaching the
subject, “Say, don’t you think you should slow down a bit? I mean, you've got
all you wanted, there is nothing left to prove. Our daughter is growing up. Maybe
it would do her well to spend some more time with her mother?”
She hated such discussions. “There
is still a lot more to be done. You won’t understand. In any case, she has you
to reach out to. You are a good father, I’m sure things will work out fine”,
she said, trying to do away with the topic.
He had expected this, “But she
longs for you. I can only substitute…”
She was in no mood to listen,
“See, I have got this extremely important delivery coming up. Can we discuss
this after all that is done?”
“But that will always be the case.
One thing ends, something new comes up. You don’t have any time for either of
us anymore, do you? Tell me, when was the last time you spent an evening with
your daughter? Doing nothing but playing. When was the last time we went out
for dinner, not because there was no time to cook but because we wanted to”, he
raised his voice despite best intentions.
She had never been kind to
criticisms, “It’s not as if I’m enjoying the day with friends. I am working
hard so that we have a future to look forward to, so that our daughter gets a
brighter tomorrow. Something which, quite frankly, wouldn't be possible with
what you earn. Just because you are frustrated with your life at work, doesn't
mean you have to take it out on me? Just because you have been stuck with the
same company, doesn't mean I need to have a rotten career as well. Just when I
thought of spending a quiet Sunday, you had to come up with this”, saying this,
she stormed out.
* * * * *
Days passed. Life moved on like
it always does. The topic never came up for discussion again. An evening of
bickering was indication enough for both.
She was working from home that
day. A bout of flu perhaps. Diseases are a great equalizer. They seldom
discriminate between the rich and the poor. A ring on the doorbell announced
the arrival of the postman. It was a letter from his company. A first in so
many years. Feeling curious, she opened the envelope and started reading the
contents, “…thank you for completing
twenty five years with this organization. We deeply value your commitment and shall
always be indebted to your services. This also marks the end of the employment
bond which you had signed against the loan for your spouse’s education…”
That was eight years ago. The
strange thing with life is just when you want it to get over; it gets back and
gives you something more to live for. The only thing we don’t always have is time.
The lights in the hospital flickered, as if emulating what she was going
through. He opened his eyes as he felt something wet on his hands. They were
drops of tear, the sources of which were those big brown eyes he was so fond
of. He cupped her face with his palm and said, “Do you remember our first night
together?" She nodded. “Do you remember the first thing you said to me?”
She nodded, “I said that I wanted to go to sleep”. They laughed.
