Dedicated to a stranger who grew on me
He must have been in his early eighties I guess. Age had taken its toll on him. Interesting man. As he lurched towards the table, his face investigated the space ahead before his feet could. I marveled at the frail, fair profile arched like a '?' that seemed to have a regular habit of dining at this particular eat-out. It was hard not to recognise or notice him. He wore a starched, white, full-sleeved cotton shirt buttoned way up to the collar and way down to the waist and sleeves. From what I could see,it had been pressed out carefully. There were creases at the right places. He must have taken taken pains to fold it carefully the previous day.But his choice of white betrayed the dust that had settled on the creases. The pair of dark brown trousers had been wiser. I could see the end of a bright yellow t-shirt that had managed to sneak out from behind the shirt. He wore a white cap with adidas in blue bold type and three blue lines on its flap. Brownish Reebok sneakers. I wasn't close enough to make out the brand of the watch. But it was a metallic , round dialed one clasped tightly on top of his sleeve. Maybe he was allergic to metal or it was just too much for his shriveled skin. His eyes were almost lost behind the solid black shell frame. Leaning against the wall was his walking stick in black and silver.
I wondered if he had a family of his own. Inspite of the aura of solitude that enveloped him, he did not seem to be lonely. He came out as a self-disciplined man, opinionated without the bearing of a retired army man. I wondered how he could lie on his back with the hunch....I saw him all alone in a dim-lit house, slowly going about doing his chores . At nights, he slept on a single cot beside the window. He had an alarm clock, a bottle of warm water, his watch, walking stick and eye-glasses at a safe reach on a table next to his cot. He wore a navy blue sweater and was curled up beneath a mosquito net. I don't think he cared much for arts or literature but he sure loved cricket and wouldn't miss a game for anything. He occasionally likes company but is not great at expressing his love. Children made him shy and scared. He had a jar of peanuts and sweetmeats always stocked by..He must have a name that sounded like Parthasarathy or Ram. He loved his walks each night to the restaurant....
I wonder if he has ever noticed that just across the table there was a person who kept watching him, insanely intrigued.
I wondered if he had a family of his own. Inspite of the aura of solitude that enveloped him, he did not seem to be lonely. He came out as a self-disciplined man, opinionated without the bearing of a retired army man. I wondered how he could lie on his back with the hunch....I saw him all alone in a dim-lit house, slowly going about doing his chores . At nights, he slept on a single cot beside the window. He had an alarm clock, a bottle of warm water, his watch, walking stick and eye-glasses at a safe reach on a table next to his cot. He wore a navy blue sweater and was curled up beneath a mosquito net. I don't think he cared much for arts or literature but he sure loved cricket and wouldn't miss a game for anything. He occasionally likes company but is not great at expressing his love. Children made him shy and scared. He had a jar of peanuts and sweetmeats always stocked by..He must have a name that sounded like Parthasarathy or Ram. He loved his walks each night to the restaurant....
I wonder if he has ever noticed that just across the table there was a person who kept watching him, insanely intrigued.
