Getting along

 

‘Relax. Shall I get some coffee for you?’ He said.

‘Listen I am in a totally different set of mind today. Please leave me alone,’ I said with tears in my eyes. Only a single child who has lost one of his parents knows how insecure he gets with regard to the surviving parent.

After some time, I was ushered inside.

‘Why are you crying? I am not going anywhere. Not until I find a suitor for you.’ My father said with a smile. I admired how he kept calm even in that tense atmosphere of the hospital.

‘Did you meet Kamal?’ He asked. I turned around to see the same stranger standing behind me. He was wearing a formal sky-blue shirt and black pants. I had not even properly seen him when he came to console me while I was sitting on the bench outside.

‘Kamal?’ The word came out of my mind.

‘He is from M.P. Recently transferred to Uttar Kashi.’ Then turning towards Kamal, he said, ‘Kamal this is the apple of my eye, my daughter Nimmi. Nimmi, you should be thankful to Kamal. It was he who first noticed that I was lying unconscious in the loo, and immediately brought me to the hospital. He is a gem of a person. I say the world need more Kamals.’

‘Sir, you are being too generous with praise. Had any other person been in my place, he would have done the same thing. Nothing worth mentioning.’ Kamal said.

‘You are being modest. Nimmi, you go home. Kamal is there with me,’ my father said. He seemed to have developed an instant liking for Kamal. I had always noticed that though he loved me more than anything, he showered lot of fatherly affection on young men as well. Perhaps, he repented not having a son. When in one of the conversations I casually mentioned it, he gently patted on my head and said, ‘You fool! I look for a prospective son-in-law and not son.’

‘I will never get married,’ I said in protest.

‘Why?’

‘Who will look after you, if I get married?’

‘You can’t sacrifice your life for my sake. And what is happening to me? See I am far better than the men of my age. I still jog two kilometres. I drive and even read the newspaper without glasses.’

I was not fully convinced with his arguments. But that day I felt he should broach the topic of Kamal’s marriage with me.

By evening of that day, all reports of my father but one were received. The doctor advised to keep him in the hospital until the final report was received. ‘There is no point in taking risk,’ seemed to be the doctor’s favourite line.

‘Don’t worry. I will stay with him, even during night.’ Kamal volunteered.

‘I have already caused lot of trouble to you.’ I said.

‘What trouble? I stay alone. Instead of sleeping in my room. I will come here and sleep. Not a big deal.’

‘You are being very kind. If I could be of any help to you…’

Snapping my sentence Kamal said, ‘Yes, for sure. If you can cook, may I request you to kindly bring some homecooked food for me. It has been ages since I had a homecooked food. Of course, if it is not too much for you.’

I really liked this side of Kamal. Inside the made of steel exterior he was still a school going boy; innocent, honest and charming, not bothered about how others would judge him.

The test reports arrived the next day. Certain health parameters were borderline, that is what the doctor said. As a result, my father was kept in the hospital for five more days. I would cook the lunch early and come and sit with my father during day time. In the night Kamal would fill in. Needless to say, Kamal got homecooked food. He appreciated my culinary skills a lot. Something, I was not used to.

My father was discharged after five days. Kamal personally came to drop him home. Besides he helped me with packing his bag while leaving the hospital. He was so meticulous about it. He had kept washed and unwashed clothes in separate bags. He took the unused medicines to the doctor. He enquired about their dosages. There were some medicines which were no longer required. After consulting me, he gave away those which were not wanted to the doctor to be used for the poor. He carefully compiled all the reports, case papers, prescriptions and bills in a file, and kept it in the bag. I was really impressed with his conduct. It is through such mundane situations that you get to know the character of a person.

I offered to send him home cooked meals daily. But he denied.

‘But Sunday lunches with be us, at our home. You cannot say no to it.’ I insisted.

He smiled.

I would look forward to his Sunday visits. I would get restless throughout the week, eagerly waiting for Sundays. I would make an elaborate meal plan for the Sunday. It would not be wrong if I said that every day was spent in planning for Sunday. I would scout for recipes. Those were the days when internet had just started crawling. You couldn’t find recipes on the internet. One had to ask for them from your friends, relatives and write down in your note books. I would buy the required ingredients. Uttar Kashi was a small place. You won’t get everything there. So, If someone was going to Haridwar I would request them to bring things like custard powder, cans of milkmaid and instant mixes etc., but I ensured that Kamal got a feast every Sunday.

Even my father looked forward to his visits. There would be laughter and mirth at the dining table. No wonders his health improved too.

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