The Old Man and his loneliness

 The darkness was still there and the sun was about to rise up. The chirping of the birds was audible as there were no traffics running on the road. The calmness could be observed everywhere around. The street lights were still to be switched off, the air conditioners that cool our closed bed rooms were adding some more heights in atmosphere mercury. The stray dogs were walking slowly in unusual manners. They had understood that their work was to be over by now.

Yes, it was early morning and I came out and was heading towards Japanese park for jogging and playing soccer and the cricket too! I felt smart to wake up early in the morning when maximum Delhites love to stay under their sheets to enjoy the monsoon.

‘How hardworking are they?’  I said to myself looking towards the creatures, who were smarter than me as they’d left their beds earlier than I did. They can be seen early in the dark morning when most of you are lost in your dreams in your beds. They walk faster looking here and there as if they had lost something expensive previous evening. The street dongs love to bark running after them. I never understood what they were looking for.

The monsoon has arrived and Delhi is still to be showered heavily like previous monsoon. Walking straight solving the puzzling questions that were storming in ma head about those persons and Indian society where a lot of boundries still exist. People like Anna Hazare are shouting and trying their level best to eradicate corruption from Indian political system but I never heard then shouting for the poorest section of this country.

Finally I had reached the park where the sound of cricket was still audible, finished jogging and then joined my team to enjoy soccer which was followed by cricket. I got tired a bit after scoring 6 runs for my team and was decleared injured by my team’s captain as one the player of my team was still to bat and some overs were still to be bowled.

He had crossed his seventies, half of his head was shining as there was scarce of hair over there, his whole face was wrinkled and was looking indifferent. He, everyday, sit there and tries different poses of baba Ramdev. He laughs loudly at times. The glow in his eyes was noticeable. Like rest of the old uncles he was in his fashionable outfits, in shorts and loose tee with the matching of branded shoes.   ‘Ram Ram uncle ji,’ I said talking a seat next to an old man whom I see everyday sitting and enjoying our games sitting on a bench under a big tree.

‘You got tired very early today,’ Uncle responded.

‘Oh,’ I…….,’ I said.

‘You know what, when I was young like you I used to play soccer for two hours every day and never got tired so early.’ said the old man.

‘That’s great,’ I greeted.

‘What do you do?’ asked uncle.

‘Ammm….

‘I’m a writer,’ I said after thinking what to choose from writing and engineering.

‘That’s great,’ he said.

‘I expected something from engineers and doctors,’ added Uncle ji.

‘India needs young authors,’ he continued.

“It was my early twenties when I was in the 2^nd year of my college life in university. It was the time when I used to live alone here in Delhi, away from my mom and dad and their love! I was very intelligent academically but I was a bit different from other classmates and streetmates so I had very limited friends. I was alone that time and I’m the same now. I completed my undergraduate degree then post graduate degree and got a job in London. I got married to an English girl. I love her a lot. Like every married couples we had produced kids. A lot of incidents have happened in my life. I’ve grandchildren now. I and my wife made our lives unbelievably beautiful co operating each other at each walk of lives. I never understood why did she demanded for divorce one night. I didn’t want to divorce her so we had some bitter arguments that night. I wanted to leave for India and she was opposing it. She met a fatal accident and two days later, she left me alone in this world. 

The cricket was turning more interesting so was calling me, but the uncle had opened the chapters of his personal diary so I loved to sit with him. In fact, I don’t have a grandpa so I liked to listen to some more chapters of his life.

 “But I always love writing and I had started writing about my life and the life around me. The loneliness is an evil as well as a gift in an under graduate college life, you know.” said the old man looking towards the batsman who was hitting six on each second ball.

‘So your college life was boring as you had limited friends and had no girlfriend?’ I dared to ask.

‘I’d a girl whom I loved but we broke up later because she wanted to stay here in Delhi and I had got a job with nice salary in London.

‘But still I felt loneliness, I don’t know why,’ he continued.

He continued and I started visualizing his story in black and white world, placing myself in place of him.

“It was quite hard for me to cope with the loneliness but it had taught me the real meaning of life.” He said.

“Loneliness had taught me a lot of good stuffs. It gave me more space to understand the wind, the birds, the summer, the winter, the monsoonal rain, the trees, the gardens, the ponds, the rivers and a lot. It taught me how to utilize my maximum time. I used to bunk my classes to think and imagine the human and nature. I never wanted to drink wines and smoke cigarette but I tried and became habitual to them. Later I understood the outcomes of drinking and smoking but still I’m alive. In fact, the incidents forced me to feel comfortable with the branded wines and US bases cigarette. The most complex task is to understand Love and its effect on the lives. Well, I’ve always heard that understanding woman is the most tidous task as the creator of this universe so the women failed to understand the women. I came to know the love the humans their pain. I came to know how to satisfy myself when I needed a girl to love and sleep with. I continued writing about my each good and bad moments that have taught me a lot of stuff since the noncompetitive to this competitive world. At last I became a writer and started writing true stories and fictions after quitting my job because it was quite hard for me to stay at the place where my lovely wife used to sit in front of my transparent cabin. I got shifted to India and after reading my stories some publishers contacted me and asked for publishing my stories in three volumes. Now, I’m a rich and famous writer but I’m still alone and lives alone in old homage away from my children and grandchildren and of course my love whose ghost come every night to give me goodnight kiss and wave her hand to say goodnight and leave for the heaven.

 [the story of that old man is written very precisely here, it's very long and very true.....It really feel bad when old people are thrown out of their houses....]