Waking up to the alarm, I got up with a new zeal. With a hope in my heart and determination to win over the weak and ailing knee I stood up and stared at the sun. It was a new day a new beginning. Though the rays were strong and piercing my eyes, I was mocking them with my smile. The smile was in anticipation of the wait which was to end.
Today my felicity even foiled the broken water heater that used to daunt me always. The cold water from the shower seemed to have bowed down before me. Looking at the mirror the wrinkles, the gray hair, and faint vision seemed trivial.
Seeing me at the breakfast table, my cohabitants were amazed. They didn’t inquire about the reason for me being present. Probably, by now, my attendance at the breakfast table was synonymous with my tryst with today’s date.
Over these years I had lost the craving and the taste for the food. But to have food twice a day was just an excuse to keep up with the promise I had kept twenty years back. The purpose of living was only to witness the fulfillment of the promise and to witness the end of the wait.
Sitting on the bench near the entrance gate, I was looking with hope and optimism at the vehicles passing by. With every horn of the car, my heart started pounding and breathing was heavy and erratic.
It was over two hours that the bell had rung, signalling the commencement of dinner. But the only sound which I was eagerly waiting for was that of my son calling out to me, “Baba…!!”
The manager of the old age home came and sat next to me. Running his hand over my back and holding my hand, said in a low and empathizing voice, “Baba… Let’s go.” The tears in my eyes couldn’t hold any longer and it rolled down my rumpled face. Wiping them I said, “My son would have been busy today. Hence he forgot to come and take me. Will wait for the next year.”
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