The Grandfather

“I don’t want to go!” The little girl wailed.

“Nisha!” Her mother scolded. “I won’t bring you again if you behave like this.”

“Let her be.” The old wrinkled man smiled. “Nisha!” He turned to her. “We enjoyed the last three hours, right?”

Nisha was sulky. But she nodded her head, still not letting go of her grandpa’s fingers.

“Do you want to come back again or not?” He said.

“Yes, Aaba.” She said plaintively.

“Then listen to your mother. It’s evening now and you have got school tomorrow.”

Nisha left his hand and walked over to her mother sulkily.

“Say goodbye!” Her mother said.

“Goodbye Grandpa!”

“Goodbye my sweetheart!”

Nisha and her mother got into the car. The old man stood at the gate, smiling happily.

“Tell Deepak to come, next time.” He said. “Why should he work on a Sunday?”

Nisha’s mother nodded. She didn’t say anything.

The car started. Nisha waved her hand frantically, grinning wildly.

The old man grinned back. A toothless, wrinkled grin and hands flapping from arithritic limbs.

The car sped away in the gathering dusk as the old man turned back to go inside.

Nisha saw his retreating form, receding into the distance.

And the sign, ‘Aastha Old Age Home’, fading into the darkness...