Guilt

I pulled the earphones and looked at my father who was saying something.

“Sorry, Dad. I couldn’t hear what you were saying. Please repeat.”

He looked at me across the room and started coming towards me on his wheelchair with great amount of difficultly.

“Dad. Wait. I will help.” Even before I could get up, he came close to me and the effort of pulling himself across the large room was evident as he was breathing fast.

He took couple of deep breaths and spoke.

“Vivek. I want you to do something for me. Please listen to everything I say before you respond. I want you to apply 1 or 2 days leave and visit my birthplace urgently. I want you to fulfill my last wish. I would like to put a stop to my suffering of more than 50 years.”

“What? Apply  leave? Now? Common dad? You know, I have just joined a new company that too for an important post. Leave alone taking leave, I am hardly sleeping for few hours daily.”

“No Vivek.” My father’s voice raised; he never raised his voice! I was taken aback by the tone and looked at him closely.

He was past 64 years; the paralysis had made him look over 75!

He never demanded anything. He just kept to his books and occasional TV. We hardly spoke to each other. I made it a point to spend at least half-an-hour if not more, every morning sitting with him and solving the crossword puzzle together with a cup of tea.

“Ok, dad. Tell me what do you want me to do.”

When he finished, I involuntarily stood and stared at him.

“Dad? Are you really telling me the truth? My God! After all these years? But, you can just leave the past behind? Who knows, the Masterji may not even be alive? At least did you achieve what you aimed at?

“No Vivek; I came second. Masterji is alive. I learned that he was not keeping well but has recovered and moves around the house. After suffering for the past 50 years or so, I want to get rid of my guilt. Please, let me die peacefully when the end comes. Get the burden off my shoulder my son. Please? I have not asked anything from you. Just do this one. But for this paralysis, I myself would have gone.”

He started crying softly.

I moved close to him and wiped the tears from his eyes.

I got down from the bus and looked around an unfamiliar place; I just came from Bangalore traveling by overnight bus which at best, was horrible. Adding insult to injury was the road which was unsuitable for any kind of transport.

I badly needed a cup of hot tea to perk up my energy and complete the task for which I undertook the more than the 300-kilometer journey.

I could only brush my teeth and wash my face in the hotel which had the worst possible toilet in the world. The door was broken and one had to sing loudly to prevent others from barging inside and put you to shame.

Sitting and sipping my second cup of tea after eating stone-like idli and paper-thin dosa, and ignoring the stares that the local people reserve for strangers, I contemplated my next move.

First, I must identify the place to which the address, written on a piece of paper lying in my shirt pocket belonged. Second? Once I reach, how to proceed.

I stood to pay the bill and looked at the man sitting in the cashier’s seat and took out the piece of paper and showed it to him. He looked at me questioningly and then looked at the address. He put on his horn-rimmed glasses and took the chit in his hand and after, what I thought a long time, gave me the chit back, put the glasses away, and spoke. “ I know the address. But why do you want to meet masjerji?”

I was about to say, none of your business. But then, I needed support to finish my mission. So, I smiled – rather artificially, I thought - and spoke. “Masterji is a distant relative. Have not met him for years. This is my first visit to this place, I am from Bangalore.”

“Oh, I see. Then you may not know about what happened to masterji?” He looked at me suspiciously as if he did not believe me.

“No? What happened?” my heart beat fast; oh god! Is he dead? Have I come too late?

Looking at my confused face, the hotelier said soothingly. “Don’t worry. He is still alive; but, barely. He is suffering from, what is it called? You know where people don’t remember anything?”

“Alzheimer?” I volunteered.

“Oh yes. Alzheimer. He has forgotten everything.  some time, he doesn’t even recognize his own children and grandchildren. So, what is it that you wanted to meet him for?”

I stood without speaking.

What’s the use if he can’t remember his past?

The whole idea of coming here is to….I scratched my head.

While the hotelier kept looking at my face which I am sure was looking confused, to say the least. I took my time to chose the words carefully before speaking.

“My father told me that he is suffering from illness; that’s why I am here to meet him. Anyway, can you please guide me to his place?”

The hotelier came out and took me to the auto stand and spoke to the driver. The driver nodded his head understanding the requirement and told me to sit; he looked at my dress looked at the hotelier and said, it will cost Rs 200. I nodded without speaking and the auto sped off.

The auto stopped after going around the town for nearly 30 minutes and the driver got out and showed me a single-storied house with a large mango tree in the front and said, that is the house I was looking for.

He volunteered to wait but I told him that I will go back on my own.

The gate was rusty and so was the doorbell; it hardly made any sound.

The door was opened by a middle-aged woman and she raised her eyebrows looking at me questioningly.

“I want to meet the masterji,” I said hesitatingly.

She looked at me again and said, “who are you? Why do you want to see him?”

I carefully weighed my words.

“my father was a student of masterji. He told me to see him and if possible…” I swallowed the remaining words.

The woman looked away and after a while she said. “you stand here. Don’t come inside. I will check whether he is awake. He just finished his breakfast and normally, sleeps for a while after eating. Ok?”

I nodded my head in agreement and stood and watched around. The house was small and very old – may be more than 50 years old. Except for a very large mango tree, there was nothing else in the front. Weeds had grown and an old stone bench under the mango tree looked as if it hadn’t been used for ages.

The woman came out and without speaking, lead me inside. I stood in the living room and looked; there were two bedrooms and a small study room. The living room had a large old-fashioned wooden sofa. She lead me to the small study where an old man who looked very old – maybe 100 - years sat on a wheelchair in front of a desk with used coffee cups. There was a large bench and I was indicated by the woman to sit on it.

I looked at the old man who was doing nothing but staring at the blank wall. After a while, I took courage and stood and went near him and touched his shoulder to draw attention.

He looked at me with a blank face.

I took a deep breath and spoke. “Sir. My name is Vivek Sharma. I am  son of Susheel Sharma who was your student almost 50 years ago.” I stopped and looked into the old man’s eyes.

The name didn’t make any difference to his eyeball movement. Then I had no other option but to speak what I was holding all along. “Sir, if you remember, Susheel was in 9th standard when an untoward incident happened; I believe you would remember the incident as it happened during exam time…..and…” my voice trailed off.

Masterji looked at me and his pupil enlarged as if to recognize the incident.

He looked at my face and spoke for the first time since I entered the room, which was almost 10 minutes.

“you have the same eyes and nose. You look like  young Susheel. Of course, I remember Susheel. He is your father, did you say?”

“Yes Sir. Susheel Sharma is my father.” I repeated.

The old man was lost again. He simply forgot that I was standing there very close to him and kept looking at the blank wall. I thought he slipped into his loss of memory area and almost cursed my father for pushing me into this activity which he should have done. But for the fact that he has suffered paralysis and has lost his ability to stand, leave alone walk or travel, I was forced to take up this job.

“That incident happened so many years ago why did you come now to re-open it?”

I literally jumped by hearing the old man speak; thank God his memory is functioning! I heaved a sigh of relief.

 “Sir. My father wanted to come and meet you personally and apologize for what he did that year during exam time. It was he, my father, who made the student who was a topper, what’s his name? Haan, Shailesh meet with an accident and miss the exam in order to secure first rank. I was told by my father that he has been suffering guilt for over 50 years. He sends his apologies though, it may be too late. He said he will die peacefully if you forgive him.”

I was happy to get the sentences out of my head. I heaved a sigh of relief and looked at Masterji.

Masterji started crying; without making any sound; the water started dripping from his wrinkled eyes and fell on the floor. He made no attempt to stop or wipe.

I stood there not knowing what to say or do.

After a while, he recovered and spoke in a halting tone.

“That year like every year before, we were expecting several ranks to our school. Your father was a good student but he always came very close to the first rank. There was this boy .....Shailesh who always stood first. The 9th standard was an internal exam. But, the marks gave an indication of things to come when the students reached 10th.”

Masterji stopped talking and cried without sound for a while. I stood there, impatient written all over my face. Now that I have conveyed my father’s message, I wanted to just get out of the house and head back to my work.

“What did you say, your name was?” Masterji asked and brought me back.

“Sir? Vivek Sharma. I am the son of Susheel Sharma your student.” I said.

“Vivek? Ok, Vivek. Do you know it is me who should be apologizing to your father, my student Susheel?”

Bewildered, i forgot my misery and stared at Masterji. “What? Sir? You should apologize, did you say?”

“Yes, Vivek. Your father actually scored 100 out of 100 in maths and should have been declared as the first rank. But..” Masterji’s voice trailed off.

After some time he spoke.

“It was not your father’s fault that Susheel sorry Shailesh missed the exam. My son too studied in your father’s class and was not a rank student. I gave two marks less to your father and it was me who arranged the accident so that Shailesh would miss the exam.”!

I stood shell shocked even as Masterji rested his head on the cushion and closed his eyes. His hand hit the empty tea cup and it fell down with a heavy sound.

The lady whom I saw while coming inside rushed inside and looked at me and then at Masterji. She went close to touch his face and then cried loudly!

Masterji was dead; his face was calmI. It appered that he kept himself alive as if to get rid of his guilt!