The Rude Awakening

The slowly rotating fan was getting on Mithran's nerves. The heated laptop placed on his lap and the sweltering afternoon heat augmented his annoyance. He shuffled to another room and placed his laptop on a small table. His grandfather's face lit up when he saw Mithran. "Come come. Do you..?

"Not now Thatha! I'm in the middle of a quest," Mithran interrupted loudly. 

Unperturbed, Thatha switched on the radio and was tuning into a frequency. He dug into his ear and gradually turned up the volume. Contentedly he sank into his armchair and hummed along to an old song. Mithran's game was not going well. He was fighting hard to keep from losing. He yelled at the screen, "no.. No.. Nooo". He banged the keyboard. "The stupid radio distracted me."

Unceremoniously, he turned off the radio. Thatha's eyes flickered open. Mithran carefully picked up his laptop but kicked the small table hard. The table crashed onto the floor and to Mithran's horror, one of the legs broke apart. Thatha silently watched the spectacle. He glanced at the broken table leg and then at his grandson. His inscrutable expression made Mithran squirm. The mixture of defeat, annoyance, and guilt did not sit well with him. But Mithran's teenage brain was defiant and he stormed out of the room just to collide with his father. Quickly assessing the situation, his father's eyes narrowed in anger. Out of the corner of his eye, Mithran caught Thatha shaking his head imperceptibly.

Neither his day nor his summer vacation, in general, was going well. Mithran and his parents had come to their grandparents' house in the village. The ancient house was a fascinating piece of architecture with its long corridors, open courtyard, and skylight. But Mithran was too busy being miffed at the lack of modern equipment and furniture to appreciating the grandeur of the house. He took inexplicable pleasure in body-shaming the fat box-shaped television which was draped in delicate lace. The internet connectivity was not great. His grandparents did not seem to regard the air conditioner as a necessary entity. His friends were gleefully playing online team games bonding over their shared treasure and victory while he was stuck playing an offline game on an overheated laptop. His life was miserable. Mithran sat on the spiral staircase brooding. His parents and grandmother had gone out and he was officially grounded. Appa had yelled at him, "Did you know that your Thatha built that table all by himself and it has been in the family for over fifty years?"

"Big deal!", Mithran muttered to himself. 

In an attempt to clear his head, he stomped up the curving staircase to the terrace. The terrace comprised a small room and a huge water tank. Mithran's curiosity brought him in front of the room's door. The door was bolted with a long piece of iron placed across two hooks, one on the door and the other on the wall. He wondered what was behind it. Maybe it had a secret passage or a coded map that would lead to some treasure. What if he decoded it and unearthed some antiques or hidden jewels? His excitement propelled him. Mithran swung the iron lever and pushed the heavy door open. It did not budge. He threw his shoulder against the door and pushed it. The stately door remained firmly shut. In frustration, he kicked it with all his might. To his surprise, the door gave in. He exclaimed, "ha! Stupid old door."

It was a small square room. And in a corner was a huge green trunk covered with a layer of dust. Mithran slowly approached the trunk. This was the moment. With trembling hands, Mithran opened the trunk. Disappointment sunk in. There was no treasure or map. The trunk hosted a variety of tools, most of which were coated with rust. He straightened and took in the rest of the room. It had an assortment of broken furniture, pipes and planks of varying sizes, and boxes of nuts and bolts. It had a musty smell. This storeroom was as uninteresting as the rest of the house.

"Why on earth did I think that anything exciting would ever happen in this house?", he grumbled angrily. All of a sudden the door slammed shut and he heard the clank of iron falling against the metal hooks.

"Hey?", Mithran yelled, thumping the door. He didn't understand what was going on. He continued banging and calling out. There was no response. Mithran was flustered. He tried to peer through the gap between the wall and the door but could see nothing. Inspiration struck Mithran. He rummaged through the great green trunk of tools. Screwdrivers of multiple patterns, spanners, a hacksaw, a pair of pliers, and some tools he couldn't identify were arranged neatly in the trunk. His hand hovered over the instruments but he was facing a distinct disadvantage in his inability to use any of them. He sighed deeply in disappointment. This was a classic case of 'water, water, everywhere and not a drop to drink'.

The tiny vent at the top reflected a pale pink sliver of light into the room. The fading sunset was slowly merging into the darkening night. Mithran did not fancy spending a moment longer in this tiny room.

He screamed in vain, "Amma!! APPA! THATHA... THATHA!"

Screaming through a locked door in the terrace of such a huge house would barely alert a person with sharp ears. How on earth would his grandfather with impaired hearing ever hear him? The walls seemed to be closing in on him. He was getting a little breathless. The room was now bathed in greyish hues. The broken pieces of furniture in the room loomed menacingly. He had injured their brother and was sitting in their midst. The fragmented pieces of wood seemed to grow larger around him. Mithran shut his eyes tight. Fear gripped him combined with regret over his actions. Would his family find him? Would they even search for him? What if they thought he deserved this punishment for his impertinence? Would they believe that he was sorry? As these thoughts crossed his mind, tears burned his eyes. He backed into the door, sunk on the floor, and put his head into his palms. Sweat trickled down his back drenching his shirt. Sobs choked his throat like an albatross around the neck. 

"Mithran. Mithu?" Mithran's head snapped up. Was that Thatha's voice?

"Thatha?" He called tentatively. He hoped he was not hallucinating. He heard a knock on the door. 

"Thatha! I'm inside here." Mithran yelled thumping on the door. 

He heard the iron lever getting dislodged from the hooks. He scrambled away from the door as it opened. Mithran dashed out and clung to Thatha's frail frame sobbing as Thatha stroked his head gently. Thatha's gaze passed over the white footprint on the door. He murmured to Mithran, "you're okay now. We'll go down. You'll feel better." 

Mithran gripped Thatha's hand firmly as they descended. The descent seemed to take an eternity. His grandfather was taking slow measured steps to carefully navigate his way down the stairs. It was then that Mithran grasped the magnitude of his grandfather's affection and effort. An 81-year-old man with stiff knees had climbed up seventeen steep steps probably after searching the rest of the house to rescue his insolent grandson. The sheer strength and willpower of his grandfather overwhelmed him.

Thatha seated Mithran at the dining table and lumbered into the kitchen. He returned after a while with two glasses of lemonade. As they sat sipping the drinks, Mithran asked, "how come that heavy door shut itself? I didn't think it was possible." Thatha was finishing his drink oblivious to Mithran's question. Mithran touched Thatha's hand and repeated himself in a louder voice.

Thatha shrugged as he replied, "Karma". 

At Mithran's blank expression Thatha elucidated, "you kicked the storeroom door, didn't you?" Mithran was stunned. His grandfather continued, "Have you heard of the saying 'walls have ears? Well, in a house as old and enduring as this everything has ears. And more than just ears too."

His grandfather, the broken table, the storeroom, and its imposing door had all, wordlessly, taught Mithran the lesson of respect. Mithran sipped his lemonade, silent in speculation. 

"Thatha, will you teach me how to fix the table?"