A sad story from the past.

This incident happened some twenty years back, while I was travelling in Kolkata. Was sent there to wind up some office related work and had reached late in the evening. The sun sets early in the eastern states of India and it was dark in the hotel lobby. Before my eyes could adjust to the light, I bumped into a man coming in from the opposite direction. Some hurried apologies later, we started talking, and soon found out that he was also from my home state of Kerala.
Later in the light outside my room, saw that he was a well built man in his early fifties.  He looked sad and did not seemed very talkative, so thanked him for helping me find my room, and went in.
The hotel, did provide some food, but right across the street there were restaurants, which served better food and what’s more it was cheaper as well. Besides being alone had nothing else to do, so went out for dinner. Right outside on the street again met the same gentleman I had bumped into earlier and politely invited him to join me for dinner. He seemed reluctant at first but some how got him to tag along.

Over dinner, which he didn’t seem to enjoy, he was very quiet and reserved. Plied him with some stories about why I was there and slowly he opened up. He was a retired army soldier,  working with a company in Kerala, as a driver. His son, who was an electronics engineer had been working with a company in Kolkata. The company bosses, unknown to the employees were involved in some illegal activities which resulted in the government closing down the Kolkata office, and putting all the employees including this man’s son in jail. Needless to say the company owners had quietly slipped out of the country. The man had tears in his eyes while he was narrating this story. He was finding it difficult to eat, because he was constantly reminded of the fact that just a few miles from where we were sitting, his son was in a jail. The company where the boy had worked, had engaged the services of a cheap lawyer, and had given some money to this man to cover his expenses.  The court had twice rejected the boys bail plea and the jail sentence was getting extended. There were court hearings every week.

I was there in the hotel for around two weeks. My work hardly took much time and so most of my spare time, I would be be with this man, running from court room to jail and to police station and back. The accused when they were brought to the court would be brought in handcuffs. The man would rush forward to meet his son, only to be pushed back by the policemen. At the court room, for the duration when they were being presented to the judge their handcuffs were removed and when the bail got rejected, they would again be handcuffed and lead back to the waiting police van’s.
Back at the hotel, all the father would do was sit and sob. He hardly ate or slept. Some days at two in the  night, he would come and knock at my door, with tears in his eyes, he would tell me stories how he had brought up his son. Of how even though he had been very strict and never showed any outwardly signs of affection his son had never complained and had always been uncomplaining and accommodating.The father repeatedly asked me , as to why had this happened to him, what wrong had his son done to deserve this.
I was about twenty two then, and had no idea what to say or how to react to these question. All I could do was to hold on to his hand and try to comfort him as he sobbed.The man was a christian, so thought it would do him some good to take him to church. I am a hindu, so for the first time and only time in my life, entered a church along with him. Don’t think any one else in my place would have acted any differently looking at his condition, didn’t want to leave him alone even for a minute.
Then I had to urgently return back to Mumbai The father hugged me as I was leaving. I took his contact number and returned back to Mumbai. That weekend, I got a call from the father, his son was released by the courts as it was felt that the employees were not responsible for the deeds of their employers. The father and son were returning back to Kerala , he had called me up from the train. The father said that at the time when he met me he was on the verge of committing suicide and it had been the long talks with me that had somehow held him together. Don’t know if he really meant it, but this really choked me, wished them both all the best and put the phone down.
Now years later, while rummaging through my desk, saw that old diary, in which I had maintained my daily expense records, while I was there in Kolkata. One one of the pages came across the father’s phone number and decided to call up. While listening to the dial tone of the phone ringing thousands of kilometers away, something inside me clicked and I put the phone down.
There are some memories in life which are best left forgotten. Painful episodes from the past which, sear you so deep that you would not want to revisit them even in your thoughts. I would like to think that the family has moved on, the father should now be retired and living if not a comfortable at least a peaceful life. The son, was a smart and intelligent boy, who I am sure must have started a different career and would be thankful to God and to the great family he had for standing by him during that most horrible phase of his life.
So quietly tore up the phone number and threw it away.