In The End

At 10:00 AM this morning I received an SMS from my aunt in Delhi that one of my relatives is admitted to a hostpital in the city where I am doing my MBA from. She asked me if I could just go and spend some time with him. The relative is my late grandmother's cousin and is really old. The last time we met was when he had come to my "mundan", a Hindu ceremony where the newborn's hair are shaven off after 6-8 months of the birth. That is something like 24 years ago!

It being a Sunday and a relatively free day at college, I thought that it won't hurt much to just say a quick "Hello" while I go for a coffee or a movie in the evening. I was told that one of my distant cousin, the admitted relative's grandson was staying with him in the hospital. Another relative I had no idea of ever having met in my life! So I started for the hospital early in the evening with a funny feeling of what am I going to say to someone who in all probability would not even remember who I was because of his old age.

I knocked on the door lightly. No response. Again. No response. I tried pushing it gently and found it open. I walked quietely not wanting the old man to wake up in case he was asleep. He wasn't. He gave me an enquiring look. I got close to him and greeted him with a customary, "Namaste Dada ji" (Hello Grandpa). Then I told him who I was, trying hard not to mess up the whole thing.

Suddenly he opened his arms and held me close to his chest for what seemed like a very long time. All this while, apart from his heavy breathing I could hear the old man crying. I didn't move. Then he eased his grip and pushed me at a distance and gave me a long approving look from head to toe. As if to admire a fine purchase! He was so happy to see me that words failed him. He narrated the exact events on the day he last saw me. That was 24 years ago! He told me how my Grandpa and he argued over what name I should get and how the final consensus was achieved when I smiled at being called by one of the options. I could not believe that someone could be so warm to someone he met so long ago. He asked me what I was doing and where all I have been all this while. We talked as if we were old pensioners sitting on a park bench and chatting away to pass time. It was amazing. I rpeatedly cut call on my mobile from friends who were waiting for me at the theatre for a movie. Finally, I told them to sell off my ticket. I simply couldn't leave my new-found Grandpa!

I discussed with him my career plans and he had some very nice things to say about them. Some of them made so much sense that I wondered if he was a big shot in the corporate world in his prime. He gave a long list of dos and don'ts. Places I should most definitely visit and things I should never compromise on for any amount of wealth on. It was all so surreal for me. It is hard to keep me listening to the same person for too long and here I was glued to my seat imprinting each word he said as if it's going to lead me to some fabled El Dorado! The fact that I lost my Grandpa when I was only 7 was also a reason why I didn't want to leave that wrinkled old hand on my shoulder.

On my way back I looked back at the evening and a warm feeling overcame me. I had done many things which would be considered nice over the past many weeks but nothing had given me so much happiness like what happened today. I searched for the visiting card that he gave me when I was leaving. On them were printed in bold, "Retd. Chief Income Tax Commissoner, Mumbai". I was shocked. A man who at one point of time had heads of companies waiting outside his office was lying on a bed, helpless. The only thing that this once powerful man now wanted was for someone to sit by his side and just be there. The words come back to me...just be there.

Then against address I read a familiar word, "Sarlangana". Where did I see this word? Then it struck me! Eversince I could remember I have been receiving birthday cards from people I have only heard about and the "From" read "Sarlangana". They had sent me a birthday greeting card all these years, despite the 14 transfers of location my Dad had in his job. Their card was always there. Some might argue that it's nothing great. It's just a card. But right then it meant that they always at least remembered me once everywhere since the day I was born. That was enough for me.

In the end it's the simple things that matter. I am glad I was there today by his side for those hours.