Any Message For Me?

This Old man came again with the same question. I said No, my anger can break the glass board on the table. I know I am a bad receptionist at this Old age home. I mean you can say I am a mess by seeing my working style. I do have patience but traveling in the city traffic jams, reaching the old age home which is located in the outskirts of Hyderabad.. This eats my patience.

Answering calls from different persons regarding Old age Home admission process and passing messages to Old people living here from their children, relatives, and friends. I do not get irritation easily. I know I have to deal with parents who expect messages from the children. I do understand why these children can't maintain phone communication with the parents directly.

I mean if I think like this first I have to ask the children how you people are happily leaving your parents in old age homes. Of course, there are some parents who are adjusted to living in these homes with same aged people, like-minded people. Remaining are thinking about what they have done wrong to their children, so they left them here.

But this man is different. His name is Srinivas. Every day,he comes sharp at 10 am to the reception counter. He wore pajamas and a white shirt. His eyes give a feeling that they are always searching for something through the glasses he wore. His son Kishore left him here a long back. Kishore deposited enough money in the old age home account to look after his father Srinivas. Srinivas thinks Kishore drops some message for me. So that he can talk with the son. He can meet him.

From the first day, I have joined as a receptionist here, I am observing him. When I answer him No, he silently goes to the Lord Ganesha idol kept aside to reception. He prays and goes out to sit in the park. Today I felt really bad for my behavior with Srinivas. In the lunch hour, I said to my colleague Usha that I will come a half hour late after lunch. She can manage the reception alone for some time.

After eating the dal and bhindi fry with rice I wanted to award my mom the Master Chef India title. I searched for Srinivas, he sat on bench and tress shade giving us the natural air conditioning. I sat beside him.

Hello Sir, I greeted him. I feel sorry for shouting on you in the morning. It is because of work pressure. Nothing else. There is really no message from Kishore.

He smiled and said, my son also shouts like you. But I do not know why he shouts. At the age of seventy, I am still not figured out what life is. I just want to talk to him once. I want to say sorry if I hurt him. I want to eat with him once. One time at least before I close my eyes permanently.

He cried like a child. I do not know anything. I put my hand on his shoulder and rubbed gently.

What is your favorite food I asked him? He stopped crying and given me a look. Maybe I am appearing like an alien to him. I asked him again. He said Chicken Biryani.

I said tomorrow I will meet him again at lunchtime and said to him to wait for me. He does not understand. I do not want to tell him. Of course, I can shout at him and he is liking. I reached home after duty and said to my Master Chef India to prepare Chicken Biryani for two persons the next day.

I said to myself that I know with whom I have to share the lunch box tomorrow.