An old man and the park bench

The illusion of the sun setting on a summer evening became the character of a canvas mounted on a stand by his window. Rohan had a room with quite the view. There was something about today’s sunset that aroused our abstract artist’s deep rooted passion. He got to work. Each stroke of his brush infusing colours (be it dull , be it vibrant ) onto the woven fabric as his skilled hands moved in harmony with his thoughts.

                                                     *****

The old man sat on a park bench after walking five rounds along the circumference of the park’s circle of grass ; outlined by a bed of flowers, its centre was marked by a tall tree standing sturdily in solitude.

Lasya occupied the only bench that was free at this hour. She was musing on how inappropriate the word ‘sun set’ is considering the fact that the sun didn’t really rise or set. It is the rotation of the Earth about its own axis that leads to the phenomenon of night and day.

“ Excuse me” said the old man. Lasya smiled turning her attention to him. The old man was dressed in a neat white dhoti and an equally white shirt ironed to precise stiffness. His receding hair matched his attire both in colour and dignity.

Old man – “ Umm. Hello. Could you open the number I last dialed. It’s a new phone and am not familiar with it yet so…”

Lasya took the old man’s mobile. In keeping with the ubiquitous characteristics of phones these days, it had a touch screen and it was smart.

Old man – “ My son sent this for me. He lives abroad with his wife. He is a software engineer you know.”

There was pride in his voice and also this unconditional love of a parent. But underlying that is a longing , a loneliness and an expectation built on hope.

Hope is the thing with feathers
  That perches in the soul,
  And sings the tune without the words,
  And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard; 

Lasya – “ Nice to hear that , uncle. Here is the list of numbers you dialed last.”

She observed how carefully he handled the mobile. His discomfort with it as he made a call was obvious.

Old man – “ Thank you, young lady.”

Lasya – “ Glad to help uncle. Why don’t you sit here? I see your seat has been occupied.”

The old man looked to his left. Seeing through his bifocals, he realized that a couple with a little girl had displaced him. The little girl ran in circles trying to catch a butterfly hovering above. The old man smiled at  the giggling child and sat down next to Lasya.

To Lasya, the old man seemed to have an aura of cognizance. Those pair of eyes hiding behind the bifocals held stories unseen. Those loose jowls and sagging facial skin held testimony to umpteen battles fought for and against life , in years he had lived. 

Lasya felt a sudden rush of anger towards the old man’s son. When his love could sustain his father through  the walk on a rough path through doors of changing times in a delicate age, this guy chose to live in a foreign land in his own bubble of happiness abandoning his father. Part of Lasya knew it was unfair to judge the old man’s son so harshly considering she didn’t know his circumstance and yet…

Lasya’s mind was caught off guard. Her heart beat picked up as she watched him approach. A tall , handsome man, probably in his early twenties, clad in a striped tee and faded blue jeans. Accompanying him was a chocolate brown Labrador Retriever.

The old man waved at him. He smiled and waved back. Lasya now had a tunnel vision for that precious smile. She chided herself to get it together and stop ogling  shamelessly.

Him – “ Good evening, my friend. I took your dog to a vet. He says there is nothing to worry. Her loss of appetite is due to the vaccination. It’s temporary. She should be fine soon.”

The lab got excited and started pouncing on the old man as he pampered it.

Chinmay had introduced himself to Lasya and now the three of them were deep in a hearty conversation, one story descending into another’s. Chinmay would later admit that he found her interesting and that she too had seemed to like him  but for now he was just living the moment.

                                                      *****

Look around this odd trio with the brown dog. You will see a group of middle aged women gossiping away like there is no tomorrow, a newly wed couple holding hands heady in love,  kids playing a game of run and chase…and many more spectacles. Look closer in these walks , you will see life come a full circle.

                                                      *****

Lasya  pushed aside the door and barged into the room.

Rohan was wiping his paint brushes clean.

He turned around saying – “ Oh! Don’t bother knocking.”

Lasya made a face and looked as her brother dramatically stepped aside swaying his hands like a magician who is about to reveal his trickiest bit of the show.

When Lasya saw what he was pointing at, her demeanor changed.

The painting was awe-inspiring. She was speechlessly dwelling in the beauty of the art in front of her. She could feel the sun go down and the moon come up in the blues streaked by orange. The streets were dotted by people…some returning home…some searching for a roof over their head.

“ So ? What shall I name it ?” Rohan asked.

He was wriggling his eyebrows with that charming grin on his face. Lasya rolled her eyes. He was clearly impressed with himself, rightfully so.

“ I ‘ll tell you but before that you have to listen to a story of mine” replied Lasya.

“Not again” frowned Rohan. Lasya threw a pillow at him in defiance. Rohan caught it before it could hit him. Damn his reflexes.

“Alright. What is this story about?” he asked.

“An old man and the park bench” came her reply.