The morning was chilly. Rain splashed heavily on the windscreen. The air Mr. Mehta breathed was eerie. His son was driving at an unnecessarily high speed. His wife, tired and sickly, slept in the backseat. The car was filled with an awkward silence.
Mr. Mehta moved his broken lips again, “Tell me son, where are you taking us?” in a voice grown hoarse with cold and old age. A grimace answered him.
But it wasn’t long before the car screeched to a halt. “Easy beta…your mom and I don’t possess healthy bones anymore…” retorted Mr. Mehta. He calmed down looking at his unperturbed wife. An umbrella clicked open and his son was out. Mr. Mehta’s senses raced to a halt when his eyes met the board “Xavier’s Old Age Homes Ltd.” He stood there paralyzed, unmindful of the rain trickling down his back, his tears following a similar trail.
A man clad in a spotless white kurta and black pants holding an old-fashioned umbrella approached him. Mr. Mehta had every reason to wish this individual was dumb, as he stepped closer.
“A rather unwelcoming morning sir, I am Andrews Mathew. Don’t get soaked; come quick. We have made all arrangements for you and your wife.” Mr. Mehta mustered whatever voice was left in his lumped throat to mumble,”W…Why?” “Mom and you will be better off here, I will bring all the remaining amenities tomorrow,” he replied blankly. Minutes later he was off. Mr. Mehta gazed on, his hand shaking from the confusion whether he should bid a final goodbye or not. His other hand was around his wife’s shoulders, who rubbed her eyes unaware of what had taken place.
**********
Three days had passed.
Mr. Mehta took the bowl in his hand. He stirred the rice soup gently, and nudged her to have some. She had grown weaker; eating little and sleeping less. He had refused food too; he realized he couldn’t continue doing so, for his wife’s sake at least.
For Andrews, this was a matter of concern. His recent clients were taking things farther than the way they should have. He resorted to console them when the maid returned with an untasted soup.
“Namastey, may I come in, Mehtaji?” There was no reply. Mr. Mehta sat on the bed beside his wife. He drove a chair in front of him and asked “May I sit?” The muteness continued. Andrews sat nonetheless. Before he spoke further, he wished himself luck. It wasn’t the first time he had consoled, but their resilience somewhat thwarted his confidence.
“Sir…err…why don’t you think this way…he must have taken the right decision concerning his family…” Mr. Mehta gritted his teeth, and then shouted with whatever remaining energy he had, “By all means, he could have waited a week after my retirement!!” His wife held his hand, fresh tears flowing from her eyes. Andrews could only nod. “But what can be done now? You will have to respect his decision. Please sir, you must eat.”
“I will relent only if he tells me the exact reason as to why I am HERE!!”
“Be calm sir. I assure you I will talk to him tomorrow but for now please, have this soup.”
“No!”
“I will relent only if he tells me the exact reason as to why I am HERE!!”
“Be calm sir. I assure you I will talk to him tomorrow but for now please, have this soup.”
“No!”
***********
Andrews checked the address before he got out of his car. The son and his wife were sitting on their verandah. He welcomed him in, but didn’t ask about his parents. He knew it was going to be a long day.
**********
It was nightfall by the time Andrews returned. The moment he stepped in, he only paused to enquire if they had any food. Upon receiving the expected reply, he walked in. In a similar fashion, he drove the chair in front of them, only this time he ceased to ask. A perplexed Mehta looked at him first, and moved his eyes away. After a brief silence, the inevitable question followed, “What did he say?”
“Before I mention any of his confessions, you must answer one question of mine, just one. Here it goes…did you love your son?” Mr. Mehta clenched his fist, but his wife held it, and she spoke first, “Tell me why…is there any reason to pierce a grieving parent’s heart?” “What’s preventing me from holding your throat is the fact that we have no other place to live other than your abode!” yelled Mr. Mehta. “…I carried him in my womb, with him in me I continued teaching for seven months…” “…I worked day in and day out, 18 hours to be precise to feed him, to buy him whatever he wanted, to educate him, to make him what he is today...”
Andrews interrupted their prattle rather calmly “Okay, okay, you have told me everything you have done to provide a human being with; food, shelter and his fancies. Let me rephrase; what have you done to love him?”
He didn’t mean to silence them, but they didn’t speak.
“How was he in school?”
Mrs. Mehta spoke “He was brilliant; we seldom needed to push him. He took care of everything himself. He was…”
“These are what he wanted me to ask you…did you ever take him to a movie, or simply a stroll in the park, in his younger years? Didn’t you always leave him on his own to ‘enjoy’? Did you check how he spent his pocket money? Did you know he was slightly insomnic? You took him for granted because he got the grades you wanted.”
“We did all we could…I had to work overtime throughout…it was at a time when my large family needed me the most…”
“But you forgot your own in that pursuit. This might come shocking to you, but he hated you as a child…” “Noo…” cried Mrs. Mehta. Andrews continued,"…I am not saying that you are wrong on most part. He too has committed the unforgivable, but the biggest blunder is that you didn’t spend enough time to try and understand him as you should have.”
He got up. “I will leave the matter to you for thought tonight. But I demand subtle changes in your attitude from tomorrow.” He then closed the door on Mr. Mehta, who all of a sudden burst into tears.
The next day the Mehtas had their breakfast without ado. Andrews looked on with a smile. The moment they were done, he requested them to get into his car. Mr. Mehta didn’t ask why. Andrews drove through a familiar lane. After a while he stopped. He beckoned someone to open the door. It was their son. “I had talked him into this. Converse heart-to-heart with him. All’s not lost. Renew your lives. Your belongings will be here by tomorrow.” Saying so, he drove off. He looked back to see them in embrace, and thought not about the role he played in bringing them back together, but the irony that a simple loving conversation had ended an extended strife; so long, yet so soon.
