5 mins read . by Sandeep Mahagaonkar . September 21, 2015
It was a cloudy morning and the weather forecast said it’d probably rain most of the day. As I stepped out of my house for a morning walk, I directed my gaze at the skies. It appeared gloomy, but my inner weather predictor challenged the scientific evidence that it could rain during that hour. I dashed out, turning a deaf ear to my wife’s suggestion to carry an umbrella. Sure enough, a few minutes in to the spirited walk, the downpour started. It lashed so heavily that I had to run for cover.
The closest place of refuge was a small hut that had a protruded roof – long enough to provide shelter from the relentless rain and some respite from the muddied street. I tried to wrap myself with my arms for protection, but the rain was too strong for my exercise to keep myself dry. I realized that a few more minutes of motionless standing would drench me completely. I gently moved across the wall to find a door that was slightly open on the other side. I stealthily peeked inside to see if I could get some shelter. I saw a dog and it perhaps got a whiff of a strangers smell. It started to bark, sensing a possible intrusion on a rain affected day. I stood still. I didn’t have the courage to either face the rain or to confront the dog. Just then, a man from the inside of the hut ordered the dog to go quiet. The dog stopped barking and my heart recovered from its erratic beat. I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Who’s there at the door?” the man’s voice emerged from the hut.
I drew some hidden reserves of courage and showed up prominently at the door and saw an old man and a dog. The dog raised its head and prepared for an attack. I was in its territory – partially drenched and helpless, my body language so defensive that a rabbit wouldn’t have hesitated to attack me. The dog made cautious movements towards me growling all along.
“Moti!” said the old man – his tone bearing a stamp of authority. “Sit down!” he ordered again.
The dog whined and took its place in a corner as the old man asked me to step in.
I cautiously treaded inside, keeping my eye on the dog that lay at a close proximity – staring at me like an enemy.
“Don’t worry. It won’t harm you,” the old man said reassuringly, sensing my fear.
“It’s raining too heavily outside,” I said, offering an explanation for my presence in that hut.
“I know. You can be here till the rain calms down,” the old man said.
We sat there for a few minutes before I broke the silence. “What do you do?” I asked.
“I take care of the property that is being constructed on the other side of the road.”
I looked around the hut and there were very limited supplies – of groceries, of utensils, of clothing, of everything.
“You stay alone?” I asked.
“Not really,” the old man said, “Moti is my companion.”
I looked at the dog and it was still ferociously staring at me.
“What about your family? Do they stay elsewhere?”
“Well, my wife passed away a few years ago and I have no clue where my two sons are. They deserted me last year,” the old man said with a forlorn face.
Silence befell for a few minutes and the old man spoke again. “Children don’t want to own responsibility of aging parents. We are a burden. They are not bothered if I am alive or decaying in some garbage.” He then pointed to the dog and said, “Look at him. He doesn’t care if I have money in my pocket or if I wear clean clothes. He’s with me for four years and is happy with me – with whatever I have, with however I am. He doesn’t judge me like humans do.”
I nodded in agreement. I felt pity at the old man’s state and didn’t know what to say.
“I know you are feeling bad for me,” the old man said. “But you know what, I am a content man. I get enough money for my needs and I cook for myself and this dog. God has been kind. I have never starved or slept hungry at nights. I have this place to stay for the next 8-9 months till this building is completely constructed, and if I am alive till then, I’m pretty certain God will take care of me.”
The old man looked at a photo of his God that hung on the wall and closed his eyes. He seemed to get spiritual and started to sing a song in the praise of the Lord. He sang in total surrender. I looked at the dog and was pleased to see it had closed its eyes and lowered its head to the ground – as if swayed by the melody of the song. I heard a few wrong verses of the song, but ignored them. When the Lord doesn’t care of the mistakes, who am I? I thought.
The old man finished his song and the rain too disappeared. I thanked the old man for his courtesy and handed him some money to take care of the dog, but the old man politely refused it.
“I don’t need it,” he said. “I don’t want to get a feeling of having taken money from you for offering you to step into this hut.”
I insisted he keep the money, but the old man said, “Had it not rained, I wouldn’t have been any richer from the money that you are offering me – you wouldn’t have come inside in the first place. Life is not always about the business of give and take. Sometimes it’s better to leave it one-sided and feel happy about it.”
I was floored by the old man’s wisdom. Not accepting something that one is in dearth of is a virtue that a few blessed souls possess. We live in a world where greed in the new need, but there are few mortals who don’t belong to the world that we live in. I smiled and transferred the money back into my pocket.
“Have a good day, sir!” I said and prepared to leave.
“One last thing,” the old man said. “You seem to be a good man. I am sure you may be doing it, but take care of your parents. No business is more important than the business of relationship – and your parents are in the top rungs of your relationships. Never disappoint them.”
I nodded and bid goodbye to the old man and his dog.
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