The Blocked Tear
Mr. Das, a septuagenarian, a widower –was walking through the
street to reach the market to buy grocery. He was cheerfully greeted by the
store owner. Mr. Das had a cold expression on his face and mechanically put a
list on the counter which the owner gave to his assistant, who put the things
in a bag, which was given to the old man along with the bill. Mr. Das foot the
bill and went away. This was his daily regime. He would bring vegetables and
grocery, cook food, read newspaper and then go to the park. He spent his
maximum time in the park, sitting on a bench.
The park had tall trees-a haven
for birds and squirrels. Sometimes, a squirrel or a tiny sparrow would silently
perch on his bench. Rather than admiring the antics of the lovely creatures, he
would mercilessly shoo them away. He would watch the children playing and
smiling, young couples taking a stroll and older ones like him either sitting
or walking at a snail’s pace.
Mr Das just looked at everyone with a stony
silence- did not utter a word or smiled or waved at anyone. At sunset, he would
get up from his seat and go back home. Sometimes he had dinner and slept-
sometimes he slept without dinner. Sleep was something he really enjoyed-a
panacea for all his ills. No worries, no feeling of loneliness, nothing to
think of. He followed his routine religiously.
He was leading a kind of robotic life. Mr. Das was no more
than a lifeless statue- with a face wearing a grave expression, bulging eyes
and dry lips sans any trace of smile as if he feared smiling-the reason behind
his stony silence was dug deep inside the recesses of his heart. His was a
happy family with a doting wife and a loving son. But fate had something
diabolical in store. His son died at an early age when he met with an accident
while playing on the road. The tragic incident left a deep scar in their life. His
wife lost her balance of mind due to the trauma and lived for just a couple of
months after the death of their son. And then breathed her last. The heart
rending incidents left Mr. Das speechless. The stony silence became a part of
his being. Smile sat hesitantly on his lips. Like a robot, he performed all his
daily chores mechanically, hardly aware what surprise life held for him.
One day while sitting on his usual bench in the park, a little
child came to him and asked for something to eat. Mr. Das did not respond. The
boy tugged his shirt and asked again. This time too, he met with silence. Then
the boy sat quietly with him on the bench.
Mr. Das shouted, “Why are you sitting here? Get down from my
bench.”
“Your bench??” exclaimed the boy. “That means you can speak,
uncle. I thought you were mute.”
Mr. Das was infuriated
and was about to blurt out when the boy cut him short and said, “Uncle, I am an
orphan. I have not eaten anything today. I am feeling so hungry. Can you give
me something to eat?”
These words melted his heart. He got up and brought a burger
from a nearby eating joint.
The boy grabbed it and finished eating within a few seconds. “Yummy,
so tasty, I love it,” he commented. “Thank you, uncle. I thought I would die
today. You made me live.”
Tears welled up in the
boy’s eyes while speaking these lines and he hugged Mr. Das tightly. Mr. Das stood
as a statue, showed no feeling, no emotion and went away. When Mr. Das reached
home, the boy’s words kept ringing in his mind (‘’I thought I would die. You
made me live”) His son’s face flashed in front of his eyes whom he could not
save from the jaws of death.
Next day, Mr. Das saw the boy again in the park. When he came
towards Mr. Das, he shouted,” Don’t come here. Today you will get nothing from
me.”
“I don’t want anything, uncle… Today a rich man came to the
temple and distributed food. I’m well fed,” the boy replied calmly.
“Then why are you coming
here?” asked Mr. Das furiously.
“To sit with you,” he
replied innocently.
”But why?” asked Mr. Das surprisingly.
“Because both of us
need company,” the boy answered with a twinkle in his eye.
”No, please go,” said Mr. Das.
“Uncle, this is not fair. You never let anyone sit on your
bench. You even shoo the little birds who try to sit here.”
Mr. Das was full of rage. He shouted angrily, “This is my
bench. I will decide who will sit here. Who are you to dictate me?”
“I I I am no one, uncle. I am just a little boy. But whatever
you are doing is not right. Please think about it.”
“Go away from here… Now you will tell me what to do and what
not to,” said Mr. Das fuming.
Mr. Das failed to notice that everyone in the park had stopped
what they were doing and were staring at both of them. When Mr. Das noticed
this, he screamed, “What are you looking at? Is it a drama going on here for
your entertainment? Go, do your work.”
Someone out of the crowd came out, went near the boy and
whispered into his ears, “Go from here- he is a mad man who snaps at anyone who
tries to talk to him forcibly…”
Mr. Das heard it and shouted again, “Yes I am mad. Go away, go
away.”
”No, he is a very kind and loving person. I am alive just
because of him. He saved me from dying… I was just telling him that he should
not forbid anyone from sitting on the bench,” said the boy smiling at Mr. Das.
The little boy went towards the old man, hugged him and went
away without saying anything. Mr. Das was touched by his loving gesture and
kept looking at the boy until he disappeared behind the tall buildings.
A few days passed after this incident, the boy did not come to
the park. Mr. Das’ eager eyes looked for him eagerly. But he didn’t turn up. Mr.
Das decided to go behind the tall buildings where he had disappeared. When he
went there, he saw someone kicking a child who was lying on footpath.
”Hey! Get away from here. Is this a place to sleep?” the man
shouted at the boy.
Mr. Das went near the
boy and looked at him. He was the same child he was looking for. Mr. Das fired
a volley of questions.
“Why didn’t you come to the park? Why are you lying here? What
happened?” But there was no response.
The boy just looked at him and said imploringly…”Uncle, Please
save me.” Then he fell down, unconscious. Mr. Das touched his forehead. It was
too hot. The boy was down with high fever. Mr. Das immediately took him to the
doctor and brought medicine. Then he took him to his home. He took care of the
child like his own son. Every time he looked at his face, he was reminded of
his own son. He made food for him, gave him medicine on time and took care of
all his needs. The boy was recovering from his illness. One day Mr. Das got up
in the night to check if the boy was fine. When he went into the boy’s room, he
was sleeping soundly. When Mr. Das was quietly going out, the boy suddenly woke
up, held his hand, got up from bed and hugged him.
”Uncle, you are so good,” he said. And started weeping
profusely. “I have never seen my parents. In you I see them,” said the boy.
Mr. Das’ hand came up in the air as if to pat the child
lovingly but he stopped midway.
When the boy saw his hand, he forcibly put it on his head and
said, “Thank you for your blessings, uncle”.
Then he fell down on the bed due to weakness.
Mr. Das said, “Sleep. Lie down, don’t talk too much.”
And he came out of the
room.
Next morning, Mr. Das woke up late as he didn’t have a wink of
sleep last night. He went to the boy’s room but found that he wasn’t there. His
heart missed a beat. He looked outside the house, in the park but found him
nowhere. Feeling distressed, he came back home and saw the boy waiting for him
outside his home.
”Where were you uncle? I am feeling hungry. I am unwell and
you don’t even give me food,” said the boy complainingly.
Mr. Das shouted,” Where were you? I am looking for you
frantically”.
“Uncle, I was here only. I went to the lawn at the back of
your house to get a whiff of fresh air. I am feeling nauseated due to the
effect of medicine. Sorry,” the boy replied.
”Now get inside and have something to eat”, said Mr. Das.
Just as they were about to enter the house, the boy held Mr. Das’
hand and asked him, “Can I call you Dadu?”
Mr. Das looked into the child’s eyes. He could not utter a
word. His overflowing emotions sealed his lips. A tear fell down from his eye.
From the eye of a stone who hadn’t laughed or wept for years. He hugged the
child as tightly as he could and nodded. “Yes, I am your Dadu”.
Mr. Das got the child admitted in a school and took great care
of him. Both of them enjoyed a lot, played, had ice cream, watched TV, laughed
and went to the park together. Now any squirrel or bird or any other tiny
creature was not shooed away by Mr. Das. He was no more a robotic but a lively
personality now. The little boy would mischievously look at Mr. Das when any
squirrel came near them on the bench and then they both burst into a loud
guffaw, startling the tiny creature. Mr. Das would even feed the birds and
squirrels with bread crumbs which he brought along with him. He waved at
others, smiled and greeted them, he even allowed people to sit on his favourite
bench in the park. Earlier people were apprehensive but when they saw the
little boy sitting comfortably with him. They also mustered courage to sit
there.
Mr Das would remark jokingly, “Hey! You can sit here, I am not
mad.”
And then they all would laugh loudly.
Mr. Das loved spending time in the park, where he met this
little child who changed his whole life, whose selfless love made the blocked
tear generated by his grief pangs come out giving place to pure bliss.
