Monday, May 10, 2010

Old Man's Glasses (Short Story)

"I shouldn't have shouted at him in the morning. Can't forget that look on his face when he walked into his room without a word. Can't say I regret it now but..."

I was thinking about what happened at home just a few minutes ago. I was in a rush to catch the bus to my office and I saw my old uncle sitting and reading the morning daily at the dining table. He is past his 80s and came to live with us about a year back. I took him home after his wife's funeral because he had no living children to take care of him, and also because it was a chance for me to pay him back for the love and affection that the couple showered on me when I stayed with them all through my graduating years. I did this against my wife's will. The middle class family that we are, we were not in a position to feed one more person and yet I succumbed to my moral duty.

As I was slipping my feet into the shoes I heard that sound for the fourth time since he came to stay with us - the sound of his reading glasses hitting the floor. I turned around and saw him picking up the pieces of his broken glasses. I do not know what got into me but I started shouting at him. Maybe it was because I was listening to the constant complaints by my wife about him. The complaints about how the old man has become an extra burden for a family of four living in a two-bedroom apartment had become more frequent in the past few weeks and I was beginning to see my wits end at defending my old uncle.

He didn't respond. He looked at me. There was a strange fear writ in his eyes and for a moment it took me years back to the day when he caught me smoking in my room. He walked in without a warning and I was sitting near the window with a cigarette between my lips. I tried to spit the cigarette out through the window but in vain. It landed on my shorts and burned a hole on it. But my predicament didn't end there. He looked at me with blood shot eyes and growled...

Is history repeating here but with the roles reversed? Is it pay back time? No. My reaction was more impulsive than anything intentional. I felt sorry as I saw him walk into his room without a word.

But... The vehicle loan, the house loan, school fees for our two kids and the other monthly expenses and I'm the only earning member. How can the old man be so careless? Is this his way of showing his gratitude for my benevolence towards him? My mind became a mess.

I was sitting at a seat near the window of the bus. The cool breeze on my face made me doze off a bit. I woke up with the jolt of the bus coming to a halt. I had four more stops to go. I stretched in my seat and found an old man take the seat near me. He must have been in his late 70s and he gave me one of those naive toothless smiles. Soon as he settled in his seat, he opened the news daily in his hands and started to flip through its pages. He stopped at every obituary notifications and scrutinised the picture in detail. I wondered what the old man was doing. I observed him with curiosity.

He smiled again when he looked at me and as if he read it all in my eyes, he said, "Just checking whether there were any familiar faces. Maybe an old friend..." and he added with a deep sigh after a few seconds, "Wouldn't be too long when I too would become a framed picture on the wall of my home."

For the first time, I felt a lingering pain in his smile. Did I have words to console him? The inevitable fate of all living things irrespective of whether he's rich or poor, whether he is a success or a failure - death. That's where all our journey ends no matter how many turns we take on the way and there're no exceptions. The picture of my old uncle walking into his room flashed across my mind again.

How long is he going to be with us?

My heart felt heavy. The bus stopped where I had to get down and I took a second look at the old man sitting near me. His was dozing with his chin dug into his chest and his frail frame heaved with every breath he took.

I had a new pair of reading glasses for my old uncle when I returned home. I found him in the living room watching T.V with my two kids. My seven-year old daughter was sleeping on his lap and he was stroking her frizzy hair. My son who was the elder of the both had his eyes glued on the T.V and my wife was busy preparing dinner.

I took the glasses out of my bag and placed it in his hands. He smiled like a kid who just got gifted a rose candy when he looked at me and I said the one word that I saved for him the whole day - Sorry.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

True Story (Poem)


I was 20 and she 18, when we first met.
Not a day has dawned since without,
The sun shining brighter even on a rainy day,
The sky getting bluer and bluer,
The birds humming sweeter melodies,
The heart feeling lighter and lighter and lighter...

The world has never looked better!

I was 23 when I got my first job and she, 21.
She lend me money when I was penniless,
She brought me cute t-shirts on my b’days,
And my shoulders were her’s when she felt weak.

We fought our lives through summers,
Through winters and autumns.
She was the best thing that has happened to me,
And I was the best thing that has happened to her.

I was 36 and she, 34, when we got married.
And then...

We Divorced!

*********************************************************

I was reading through some odd stuff in an old edition of The Reader's Digest and I stumbled upon this very intriguing story of a couple who had been in a love relationship for nearly 15 years at the end of which they married and no sooner, they divorced!


It's a freaking world, indeed!

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

I? Me? Who? (Poem)


Who am I if I'm not me?
Why am I if I'm not me?
What am I if I'm not me?

A faceless stranger?
A soulless spirit?
A body without a body?

I? Me? Who?

And who's that asking -
"Who are you?"

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