Isolated By Own Family, Cared By Old Friend

Friends sometimes prove more helpful than family

First, he stepped inside my clinic with his footwear on. I watched his feet fumbling from under the curtain at the doorway. He again stepped down and dropped his dusty foam slippers at the corner. His steps were short and rapid and his hands were held straight down from the torso. Upon entering my cabin, he stood to the left corner of my table and, after vigorous searching inside his shirt pocket, took out a green-colored strip of tablets.

This was the third time I advised him that the tablet had to be taken in the morning before breakfast. Seemingly satisfied, he nodded and put the strip back into his pocket, and stood there confused. I asked him if anything was wrong. He dragged the chair towards him and sat erect. He confirmed it one more time that the tablet I had given him was for the discomfort he feels inside his stomach when he empties his bowels in the morning. I reassured him that the tablet would help him with the problem.

After having briefly surveyed with his eyes the ceiling of my cabin, he spoke in a soft tone - "Doctor, my daughter-in-law cooks food without taking care to add less salt to the dish served to me. I have told her several times that the doctor has advised me to reduce the amount of salt that goes into my food. But she doesn't seem to care. She says she cannot cook food separately for me, and, consequently, I'm having to eat all the spicy, oily and salty foods that she cooks for the family. I have reduced my consumption of curries to such an extent that at times, I eat plain rice for the fear of all the salt that she cooked the curry with. So, since the past couple of weeks, I eat my food from a local eatery at the road's end, which is run by my old office-boy at the revenue department where I had served as a senior officer for 40 years. I had recommended his name when our office required an office-boy, around 15 years back. He worked there for 10 years and quit the job when he found that arecanut prices were shooting up and expanding his farm could fetch him bigger profits than working as a peon there. Even to this day, he holds great gratitude towards me for having helped him when he was finding it difficult to make ends meet. I step into his shop everyday, and eat the unsalted idli and sambar that he cooks specially for me. But, believe me, doctor, he doesn't charge me a single rupee for the food I eat at his hotel. In the evenings, we take a stroll to the Ranganathaswamy temple and chat for an hour under the old banyan tree. We talk about our days at the revenue department, the officers there who were transferred in and out, and some issues of state politics from the local newspapers."

He continued - "Doctor, to tell you the truth, I find no peace at my home. I have two sons and a daughter. Daughter lives in a town more than a hundred kilometers from here, with her husband who works at the courier office. My younger son left home 20 years back. I suspected that he might have stolen 100 rupees from my pocket when I found it missing from my shirt pocket. He used to frequently complain that his friends get pretty much pocket money and that he felt insulted by them. I was stubborn on not allowing him the freedom to spend money at a tender age. But he took the extreme step of leaving our home after I scolded him for stealing the money. He hasn't returned to me till this day, and I'm not keen on taking any efforts to trace him either. I wish and pray everyday that wherever he is, he should be happy and healthy. I have the hope that, someday, when the news of my death strikes him, he would definitely come to his strict father who never gave him pocket money to have fun with his friends."

The old man continued, after I interrupted him at this point in his story when his eyes started to fill with tears, by asking him about his elder son - "He was good to me. But after the girl moved into our home after his marriage, he has stopped caring about my disease. The other day, I had a difference of opinion with him and he has stopped talking to me thereafter. I took my anger out on his wife for having made a sugar syrup out of milk and coffee powder. She took the phone and called him. When the family sat for lunch, he asked me not to speak like that to his wife again. Thereafter neither of us, I mean, me and my son, felt the need to talk to each other."

I felt I could improve things a little bit for this old man if he could bring his daughter-in-law to the clinic, so that I could advise her about the dietary restrictions for him, and the healthy foods that he can eat. But instant came his reply that he has in fact, stopped talking to anybody in his family, and that his friend at the road's end makes just the right kind of food he needs. After having said so much, he asked my pardon for having wasted all of my time in listening to the story of his life, and stood up to exit my cabin. I told him - "Sir, your story was one of morals. I never found my time getting wasted in listening to you. Rather, I got to learn the virtues of life from your story."

He did not reply. He smiled at me and walked out in short fumbling steps.