"met my ''half cup coffee friend'' after weeks. this 75yr young friend of mine never leave without having my cofe and a generous compliment;)"
PLEASE NOTE : The story line mentioned below is purely imaginary !
My Coffee Uncle
Did I hear a ring of our calling bell?
Or, was that just my feeling, or another early morning dream?
Or, did the bell really ring?
I got up from the bed abruptly giving my sleep, an undue break. Without either switching on any lights or disturbing Vivek and my six year old, I slipped out to the hall. I peeped through the door to confirm my illusion.
In spite of sun having risen by then, it was darkness outside because of the unprecedented early morning thunder showers. Due to that, nobody could be seen outside when I looked through the peep hole. Keeping an eye fixed on the peep hole, I switched on the verandah lights by extending an arm. When the lights were on, I could vaguely see an image – that of an old man, getting up from the floor. I could not see his face properly.
Being aware of the recent robbery in one of the neighbourhood houses, I was a bit reluctant to open the door before confirming the visitor. Nonetheless, I did not intend to disturb Vivek as he was off to bed very late the previous night. We had been analyzing various pros and cons of his thoughts on whether or not to take up a lucrative job offer which had just come for him from the Middle East. Akshara, me and other elements including our car, house and pets were of a big concern to him (and me too) – all were equally attached to him. Vivek did not prefer grabbing a financially advantageous offer to giving in to any disadvantageous proposition and consequently spoiling the existing comfort factors. He was more worried in leaving me and Akshara in light of the increasing level of insecurity in the city.
I looked out through the peep hole, once more. The old man was then anxiously looking at our door, perchance expecting someone to open. When he turned his face again while attempting to press the calling bell, his image became much more visible to me – a skeleton frame having grey hair, white beard, tired face and drenched clothes.
Oh! My God! Is that my Coffee Uncle?!!
Coffee Uncle was a businessman-cum-neighbor in our village. He had a hardware shop of his own – one of that kind within an area of nearly 30 kilometers. Whenever he visited our small house, he used to ask for a coffee made by myself; and never failed to appreciate its taste, perhaps to encourage me. Hence, when I grew up, I started to call him, ‘Coffee Uncle’.
With a blend of surprise, excitement and anxiety, I opened the door to see my “Coffee Uncle”, after many years. He smiled at me peacefully. It was a painful smile, though. I bowed down to touch his feet as a custom. Uncle hugged me and started to cry.
“Kavitha, dear! How many years have passed on since we last met? How are you, my child?”, he asked me, wiping his tears.
“I am happy, Uncle. Please come in. You are all wet. Please freshen up and change your clothes. Didn’t anyone accompany you?". I looked out for someone who must have accompanied Uncle.
Coffee Uncle maintained silence. He didn't want to tell me anything, I realized. I ushered him to the guest-bedroom and gave him Vivek’s shirt and a dhothi for him to change over.
“Uncle, you came walking from the Railway Station at this time? Didn’t you get any autorickshaw?”. Considering his age, I was terribly surprised on how he must have walked this much of a distance, because the Railway Station was around 8 kilometers away from our house.
“Could you manage to find this house easily? How is Aunty? How is Pushpa? How many children does she have? Where is Anurag? Is he still running your hardware shop?”
I had lot more questions to ask him, but I could not, as Coffee Uncle went in to the bathroom to freshen up, with just another helpless smile.
I went to the kitchen to make coffee.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
There was no contact or any kind of correspondences with Coffee Uncle or his family after I shifted to city, post my marriage, ten years ago. Sadly, Coffee Uncle did not emerge as a topic during any of our family discussions too. I tried my best to reconcile the huge difference between the Coffee Uncle whom I saw a decade back, and the Coffee Uncle who appeared today from nowhere, with a tired look. I presumed something was wrong somewhere. I asked to myself as to why wasn’t he willing to answer any of my curious questions?
I was lost in my thoughts, but was forcefully brought back to reality with a jolt by the sound of the milk boiler.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Uncle, coffee!”, I extended the coffee tray to Uncle with a packet of biscuits.
Uncle sipped the coffee and I saw some reflections on his face. He was looking awkward in 'gigantic' shirt which belonged to Vivek.
“Where is …....”, I assumed that Uncle was enquiring about my family.
“Vivek. And, Akshara. They are still sleeping. Yesterday, we slept very late.”
I was inquisitively gazing at Coffee Uncle while he finished his coffee in haste. I was trying to figure out the changes in him, especially in appearance. I wanted to ask the remaining array of my stocked questions for him, but refrained from doing so, did not know, why.
“Excellent coffee, dear. It has been years since I had a good cup of coffee. Where is Vivek working? How old is your daughter?”
“Akshara is six and is in UKG. Vivek is an engineer. Actually, we are in a dilemma, as Vivek got a very good offer from the Gulf, but he is not willing to take it up - thinking of leaving me and Akshara here. This job would have helped us to repay our loans quite fast, but…..”
Uncle interrupted, “in my opinion he should accept this job. Opportunities will not come always. Those who miss opportunities are like fools. Why is he worried so much? Do you know, in today's world, money can buy anything. Relationships come last - I can say from my experience...”
I explained the various advantages and disadvantages listed by Vivek the previous night about the offer he received. But, according to Uncle, most of the disadvantages listed were belonging to ‘unwanted-fear’ category. He convinced me to urge Vivek in accepting the offer, come what may!
A positive feeling engulfed me, all of a sudden.
I felt relaxed, after many days.
“Where is your father now? I have not met him for long”, Uncle queried.
“Both father and mother were with us till a month back. Now they have gone to Anitha, my younger sister who is living in Delhi."
After a pause, I continued - "For quite sometime, we were not very comfortable financially. But, my father's love and affection soothed us. Against our wishes, we had to sell off our property there for Anitha’s marriage needs, because father was retired by then.”
“Daughter, God will bless you for taking care of your old aged parents. One will never understand their aged parents till the son or daughter becomes old. I learnt it the hard way. Aged parents have their own demands and it is difficult to change them just like that. I am here today for a medical checkup at the speciality hospital and I had to come all alone!”, Uncle wiped his tears again with the free end of his dhothi.
“Aunty…?”, I couldn’t resist my curiosity anymore.
“She died two years back. She was my strength – I realized only after she went away from me. I did not know how she took care of the relationships so well. We both expected a lot from our son and daughter. I brought them up by giving all possible luxuries, but ….”
Uncle could not finish what he wanted to say.
Because, he started to cry. I too.
Knowing about Aunty’s death was a shock to me. She was such a nice human being who had never differentiated between me and her daughter, Pushpa whenever we were together in their house. There was no discrimination of rich or poor. She cooked good food for us, bought me new clothes during festive occasions and remitted my school fee twice or thrice, when my father could not raise my school fees by due date. I reminisced.
“How come I did not remember her all these years? I am a thankless creature! I did not take interest in enquiring about Coffee Uncle and family !!”, a ball of guilt swallowed me altogether.
“Pushpa?”
Uncle continued. “After my wife’s death, I had a feeling that I would not live long. In a rush to finish off the partition deed and also to avoid any confusions or quibbling between my children after my death, I gave the shop to Anurag and our house to Pushpa. Within six months, Anurag sold off the shop without my permission and started fighting with me for more money. While in an inebriated state, he even dared to push me to death once! Pushpa’s husband also changed himself completely as soon as he got my house registered on his name. Subsequently, I was asked to get out of ‘his’ house one day when I argued with him for something - a serious matter for me and a silly matter for him. It dawned on me that Pushpa was also not with me then. Nothing more to say, last month, Pushpa without any hesitation, asked me to look out for a rented house or to get myself prepared to be in an Old Age Home! She complained that I was a bottleneck to their privacy as long as I stay with them."
Uncle was still crying. I too.
Uncle continued - “My children showed no mercy on this old man. At last, I had to step out of my own house with just a couple of dresses and my wife’s photograph. I painfully turned back to look at my house, which was built of love, affection and sentiments. Dear, I have nobody to look after me.”
I could not believe my ears. I was completely blank!
Anurag, Pushpa, Anitha and myself - we played hide and seek together, we played running races in the backyard of our houses and we were going together to the school like one family! What happened to my Pushpa and Anurag? Why did they behave like this, I could not understand.
“Do you remember Raghavan, my driver?”, Uncle asked me.
“No, I do not remember him. But I remember your white Ambassador car. You picked me up from school one day, when I was reported sick by the teacher. The car that saved my life!”, I reminisced.
“Raghavan looks after me now, like a brother. I gave that car to Raghavan who is now using it as a parallel taxi in our village. He brings me some money if at all he gets a ride. Nobody wants taxi now, as everyone has own car. Pushpa also bought a car. She is also rich."
I threw away all my respects I had for Pushpa, when Uncle told me that he was not allowed to get in to their new car claiming that their car was foreign-make or something like that!”
In a few minutes, Vivek woke up from his sleep and joined us with his cup of coffee after heating it up in microwave oven. I introduced him to Coffee Uncle and vice versa. Vivek liked my expression, “Coffee Uncle” and I was happy to see them gel together within a very short time.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Vivek, I think we got a solution”, I told.
“What solution?”, Vivek could not understand what I was intending.
Seeking a silent permission from Vivek, I looked at Coffee Uncle and asked him, “Coffee Uncle, can you stay with us for sometime? I will take care of you like a daughter, or more than that!".
Uncle was perplexed on my bewildering question, which was framed purely on my guilty consciousness. For me, that was the right time to repay the debts back to Uncle and the late Aunty. And, that was the right way to extend a helping hand to my Coffee Uncle too, at this hour of need.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Till today, Coffee Uncle neither answered my question nor went back to his village. Thanks to Coffee Uncle's timely advice, Vivek took up the offer. Coffee Uncle is also happy. He is staying with me and Akshara now. He is a father, father-in-law and also a grandfather, who sips his half-a-cup of steaming coffee, made with love, every morning.
POST-SCRIPT
Please comment or write to me at renjithps@gmail.com if you come across any Coffee Uncles in your life. Lets join together in making their life more colorful and happier.
(C) Renjith P Sarada. 2010. All Rights Reserved
