We Are Sorry

Baba came home from office really late that night. We, my mother, I and my elder brother, were already on the dinner table. I and Shantu da had school the next day so we were in our final minutes of ‘waking hours’ for the day! But then baba spoke, and we were informed that one of his best friends, also a very close family friend, has been admitted to a hospital due to brain hemorrhage.
Baba’s friend, Malay uncle, had gone to Kolkata during the Puja season with his family, and there on a certain day after sudden unconsciousness, he was admitted. We had a very enjoyable Puja here in Delhi. But Malay uncle was missed; he was this effervescent and highly affable person hanging around all the time, with no shortage of enthusiasm and passion. He had curly hair, dark skin color, small pox spots on his face distributed evenly, and round ‘Gandhi-an’ spectacles just about fitting in the nose hook. Even though he was Baba’s friend, he acted more of a guardian to me than my Baba. His fondness for children and especially bright ones was something everybody knew and respected. He was an artist by profession and took keen interest in sports and politics, with equally good knowledge about Hindustani classical music. All these made it a pleasure to have him around in any circle or gathering. A Puja without him was so different.
Baba said he got to know about Malay uncle around lunch time in his office, and then after office he went to meet the 3-4 friends who along with my father were the closest to Malay uncle. They discussed about what can be done and whether they should ask Malay uncle’s wife and mother to bring him back to Delhi to get him treated in a finer way. There is this general belief that medical options are far more advanced & professional in the capital than the ‘city of joy’! They had called Malay uncle’s wife after their discussion and given her this option, to which she replied she would consult the doctors about it there and then take a decision the next day. On the next day, uncle’s wife called and said that the doctors are not willing to take the risk of discharging him and letting him go to another city, so it was better if he continues to be there itself. To this reply, it was not possible to coax her and Baba & friends started thinking of an alternative solution.
It was a Sunday, and hence all working men had an off. Our drawing room was selected as the meeting point of all friends, and there the discussion began. It was suggested by someone finally that some of them should may be go to Kolkata to help, as it would be more than an assistance on the manpower front, and also may be financially for the time being. To this idea, there were multiple debates, almost everyone said it was not possible for them to take a leave and go to Kolkata. The meeting again ended in a non conclusive point, and all went to their homes. Baba sat there silently, smoking, and thoughtful. In the evening something struck me, and I went to Baba and said:
“Baba, lets both of us go! I can take 3-4 days off from school, my half yearly exams are still 2 months away. Why should we think so much when it is about Malay uncle, baba? He has taught me how to sketch; he has taught you how to enjoy a drink with music; he has taught dada how to play a cover drive! He has taught all of us how to live, and today when his life is in danger, what nonsense are all of us thinking? Shouldn’t we be there with him, no matter what?”
Baba had a smile on his face and a tear in his right eye, and shouted to my mother that our 15 year old son has thought and spoken the way a lot of 50 year olds couldn’t! He booked tickets the next morning from his office for the 2 of us, as we would depart the next day. I gave a leave application to my Principal in school that I will be unavailable from Tuesday to Saturday due to family reasons.
Baba came home from office around quarter to nine in the night. He saw me sitting in the drawing room, and this did not please him at all. He shouted on me “Are you such an idiot, that tomorrow you are leaving and still you do not have the sense that you should study a little tonight atleast?” I covered my face with my hand and broke down into tears! My mother came from kitchen and told my father that Malay uncle is not anymore with us, and his wife had called us in the evening to tell us the news. My father went to his room and cried in silence, his eyes remained red all day on the train to Kolkata the next day. We met Malay uncle’s family in guilt of not reaching on time, and made our way back to Delhi in a couple of days.