sales digest

The tragedy of an old man

In 1952, I was doing my second year in St. Berchmans College in Kerala. For the students College never was an attraction. But the Masala Dosa of Nehru Cafe and the nearby New Theatre were big student pullers. The short, stocky, bald-headed New Theatre Owner Mathachen had many antics to attract the students. One day suddenly a big banner appeared in front of the theatre with three sexy teenagers painted over it. Their dance was a bonus for the cinema viewers. Before the dance the three girls in their gowns were presented to the audience along with their father - a handsome graceful looking person in his late fifties. I saw the dance which was crude and soon forgot about it.

In the sixties I came down to Madras from Bombay as a Salesman of Johnson & Johnson Ltd. Opposite to my house there lived a family with hosts of children and an old fair-complexioned person. I was then a bachelor and my stay in Madras was confined to a week or so in a month as I had to tour all over the South. This old man was a regular visitor to my place and he used to share his woes with me. I could make out that it was a great relief for him and he enjoyed my company and my traditional self-prepared Kerala brand black coffee. I too loved this man for his plain speaking. Since his accounts may taste bitter to many where old parents stay along with them, I refrain from going into the details. But one particular instance he referred to, I will never forget and I want every one to read it. It ran like this:-

“This morning I went to the Egmore station to book a ticket and from there I had to walk down to the Govt. Eye Hospital for an eye checkup. It was around 2.00 p m. On the right side of the road I saw many beggars sitting on the footpath and having their food. I looked at their aluminium plate and I found two to three items along with the rice in it. I compared myself to them and I suppressed my emotion and tears”.

One day he said he belonged to Kottayam, a town in Central Travancore. I told him of my job related Kottayam connection and added that I had my college education in St. Berchmans, Changanacherry. He had loved me as a son and had nothing to hide from me.

“That town is known to me. My children had a dance program in a theatre there”. Suddenly it struck to me that this was the graceful old person I had carried in my memory for years. Our loving relationship went for months together. The opposite house where he lived was the finest example of a house of what one should not be. When the quarrel between the spouses reaches the high pitch the old man used to run out and seek refuge in my house. I was very good to him, and he was so noble and upright that he had never used to exploit my warmer feelings for him. My heart was full of pity and sympathy for him. In the middle of one night during such a high pitch

battle between husband and wife, he rushed to me and he wanted to spend the rest of the night with me. I had no great facility to accommodate him, but both of us shared the room for the rest of the night. Early morning he got up and both of us prepared and shared a hot black coffee. He then asked for a favour from me for the first time. He said he wanted to go to Kottayam and see his first daughter. He wanted money. He promised that he would come back soon. Immediately I obliged because to me he was a fatherly figure in my heart. With tears in his eyes he looked at me for sometime and in a cracking voice he mumbled “Life has become very difficult for me. I trace my sufferings decades back when my wife went on her heavenly call leaving these three girl children under my care. God only knows the trials I went through these decades to bring them up to this stage. Now I have become the ‘old man out’. He continued “One day I will put my head on the rail and this unwanted life will end once for all”.

“That would be a rash act” was my response. He wiped his tears off the face and left. The next day he left for Kerala. He returned after a week or so, but I was not in Station. I was on business tour. I returned after a fortnight and the opposite house was very clam. I looked for the old man as I had such a liking for him and his smile was the greatest motivation and inspiration I ever had in my life. But that smile was no more, his graceful face was no more and his tears too were no more. Days earlier, in the dead of night he left the house, went to a busy railway crossing, placed his head on the rail and the approaching train cracked his neck upwards. The man broke his journey of life for ever and the train and cruel family continued its journey in different directions. To the best of my understanding the family recognised the body at the mortuary but did not claim it to save money on funeral expenses. It was buried or utilised like any unclaimed body.

At times I go through that phase of my life with him and tears flow through in plenty, unchecked. Even now as I write this.

This is a real story - K. Mathew Thomas.