It was a rainy day and just like that he was 66. I could hardly see any wrinkles on his face. Working a 6 day, 9 hours a day still looked easy as it had 25 years ago. Taking public transport and walking to work , no problem to start at 60! Running errands and doing chores every morning and Sundays was still a piece of cake. He never needed help, he never even had a cavity. He is ageless.
Demonetization left me with no cash and cabs decided to go on a strike. So, I called him. I knew I could always rely on him to hitch a ride from the metro station parking. It was winter in Delhi (or at least supposed to be) and I was standing at the platform of a Gurgaon metro station watching water falling from the sky like cats and dogs. It had been a rather unpleasant day at work and all I wanted was to reach home and sketch or watch television. I watched the millions of immigrants waiting at the station in groups bitching about their day and munching on chips.
After skipping 3 trains I finally managed to get on one. A lonely woman was eating her feelings with a happy meal from McDonald's. Another girl next to her was yelling at her boyfriend and crying her heart out. A couple sharing popcorn in between the ladies coach and general coach should have really gotten a room. The driver decided the press the brakes hard and I landed on a pile of something on the floor which turned out to be a person sleeping on the floor. After regaining my balance I composed myself and tried reading my book.
Twenty three long minutes later I arrived at my station and ran to the parking into a puddle. I was finally in the car shivering. "I need to go the market, do you mind waiting in the car for 5," said my father. I knew it wouldn't be 5 minutes. I would take an hour to reach home! Why did he still go to those markets? I thought to myself. "Sure. I will move it around if required." I replied with a smile.
He started to drive and the windshield was fogging up. The traffic as one can imagine was hellish. Suddenly, the guy on the bike was hit. It just only touched him so he didn't lose his balance but he turned around to give the Delhi traffic stare to us. Looking at a young girl with an old man who instantly apologized, the biker turned back. My father started to scratch his knee. He always did that when he was uncomfortable. And just like that he was scared. He drove at 10 km/h and somehow reached the destination. While waiting for him I had to shift to the driver's seat and move the car around.
Coming back to the car he quietly sat in the passenger seat. It was the first time he didn't argue over who was going to drive. In the entire journey he looked down. I'd never seen him feel so small and helpless. He was old now, at least a little.
Strong parents never seem to age and one day they break. We never think we'll have to take care of them. Don't get me started on how they violently they react when we do try to help. Strong parents are too proud to ask for help. Aren't we as a race of people best at sweeping things under the rug?
So I said nothing. He said nothing. The rain seemed to be stopping and the windshield was clearing up little by little. He sat there with his face down like a kid who lost his basketball game or failed a test. I didn't know how to help him and then it struck me to just mess up too. I raced down a slope and drove fast over a divider. "See, that's not how you drive. How many times do I have to teach you this? It can be very dangerous beta. You see now why I drive so safely"
And there it was...his smile. I bet he slept well at night knowing I still need him.
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