As it was Sunday and my mom went to native ahead of Diwali to do some preparatory works, I had my dinner in one of the nearby restaurants. The restaurant was crowded, though not heavily. I sat in a table with six chairs which was already occupied by two youngsters, doing college it seems and an elderly person.
I had to wait patiently (I hate waiting) for the waiter to take the order, normal in crowded restaurants. I glanced around the restaurant to see if anything amusing is happening around. I usually prefer seat in any of the corners so that I can watch all around. I like watching people. As it was crowded today, I got only a table in the center. In one of the tables in front was a family of four – father, mother and two sons. They appeared like a middle class family having a Sunday outing. They were discussing what dessert to order. In another table in front were a couple with a sweet little girl child. The girl was seated over the table and her mother was trying to feed her idlis, but in vain. In another table were three girls, may be doing college or fresher in some software company. To my side were four men of middle age, probably local businessmen running shops or real estate people by their looks. My irritation over the delay was greatly defused by the cute child dodging her feeding mother. I didn’t notice the elderly person opposite me.
When the waiter came after 5 minutes with a glass of water, I ordered idiyappam and coconut milk. As the waiter left my table, I made a mental calculation on how long it will take for the order to reach my table. I estimated a 10 minutes, which later proved right. I started watching that adamant little girl again. Her father was holding her now. She grabbed and pinched her father’s nose and chin. I involuntarily started toying with the water glass.
“People these days aren’t loyal to their employers these days”, the elderly person’s critique startled me. He was telling those words at me. I was perplexed at first, but soon realized that he was telling in general. He appeared 70 by his looks. Later he told he was 65. A three-day beard, which gives attraction to youngsters, has increased his age by another 5 years. He had a full white hair and wore cotton shirt. He had lost two teeth in front. But his face was serene, which shows up when one has completed all his duties (as expected by the society) and there are no more commitments or burdens in life. He waited until I stopped gazing at him. He started his monologue.
“I worked in Vadapalani before twenty years. It was not like now. We were very loyal to our employers and they were so compassionate to us. They were like idols for us.”
The long wait for my Idiappam was over. I started scurrying as I was very hungry all the time looking at the old man. I was wondering why he was telling all these to me. He almost finished his plate of sambhar idly. He took in one spoonful of sambar and continued.
“It was a close bond, a lifetime relationship. We were like family. When I came from my village they were the ones who took care of me”. … “I had land in my village, but agriculture was not yielding anything. We came from village to Madras in search of a job. Getting a job was difficult those times. But we were lucky to get such employers”. … “These people nowadays change don’t stay with one employer. They don’t realize how much they lose in life. Life is all about building relationships. These relationships add years to the life. I visit my employers once in a while. Their love for me gives peace. Their children love and respect me like their father. They are like a family outside my family.”
He sipped some water. As I didn’t show any reaction, though I was assimilating his words and my dinner, he took two more spoonfuls of shambar idly. I gave him a cue that I was listening to him with my eyes. He continued after some time.
“I have got a son of your age. He got him married to a girl of rich parents. Their only expectation was clean habits from my son. They knew me and respect me. She is a good and beautiful girl. I see my mother whenever I see her. She respects me and is very kind to me. I don’t know if I will for another year. All people coming to this world has to go from here some day or other. I wanted to celebrate this Diwali with my son and daughter-in-law here. She wants to go to her home. But I told her not to go this year. ”
The waiter came to our table. I ordered another plate of idiyappam. The old man ordered a dosa to be parceled. The couple with child was replaced by another elderly couple and a person of about my age, probably their son. The college students in our table also left.
“I have three daughters. All are married. I have not given much of dowry for them. But they all share my house in the village. Whatever time I go home, my youngest grandchild will wake up and rush to me. She often sleeps on my chest. All my grandchildren love me very much. I want to give them as much as possible before my life ends. I am not going to take anything with me when I go. So I don’t want to save anything for me. All my earnings are for my children and grandchildren only. So I spend them for them when I am alive. I have the land and house in village. This will do for my children.”
The waiter asked if anything else is needed. I ordered a coffee. The old man asked for his bill.
“Me and my wife are now with my son. He works in an IT company. He is well settled now. He told my daughter-in-law not to go to work. I too don’t want her to go to work. She will take good care of the family. She has the responsibility to bring respect to the family. I tell her to wear silk saris only when they go out. Earning respect is the first and foremost thing in the life.”
The waiter had placed his parcel and my coffee before I completed the second plate and gave us our respective bills. The old man continued.
“We never knew when we will die. Every day so many mishaps happen. Anything may happen any time. We have to be very careful about what we do. We have to love our family utmost and live for our family.”
I told the old man, “You will see your grandchildren get married.” For which the old man replied, “I don’t want to live that long. I am peaceful and happy now and want to be so until my death. That’s enough.”
I settled my bill, gave a decent tips to the waiter who made me wait and to the security who enthusiastically cleared way to take my bike out of the parking.
I wondered why this old man told all this to me. I ruminated his soliloquy - messages for life?!?!.
I crossed the Shiva temple on the way to my house. I felt a strange peace...
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