Little Angel

Little Angel

Have you ever felt completely lost? So lost in something that you don’t even remember who you are? When someone talks about you, you don’t react to it because you don’t even know that it is you they are talking about. Ever felt that?

My story is set in a rather obscure date in 2002. Obscure to me, because I don’t remember dates very well and obscure to you… Well, because I don’t remember the date. No festival. No repeating digits. Nothing like that. It was a day like any other. The only thing I properly remember about that day was that it was raining.

Our house was an elegantly designed bungalow made of thatches. But to be honest, who would live in those cement-roofed-buildings? I mean, you can’t even feel rain from inside these places.

But in our beautiful hut, rain is always a guest; who plays with our children, embraces us in love and makes us cry with grief all at once. An uninvited guest, an unwelcome guest maybe but a guest all the same. A guest we could feel.

We were six in count: I, my son, his wife and their three children. And the hut was our home.

My son, Murugesan, was, is, will be a downright drunkard and he is supposed to be the head of the family. Not that he ever did anything for it except of course, quarrel a lot and beat a lot.

His wife, Kuppaye was a typical quarrel mongering, plotting housewife with a foul tongue and an even fouler heart. But she, at least, held the family together. She fended off her husband and protected the children. She often got beat up, got shouted at, sometimes rather violently. At first she used to cry. But when she knew that crying was of no use, she started to defend herself. And so started shouting back - at anyone and everyone who did so much as speak with her. But as I said, she at least held the family together.

Their two sons, Kannan and Kathiresan were studying ninth and sixth standards respectively; but did things much beyond their age. Picking packets for example; fighting, smoking, and what not. The younger one, Kathiresan, was much better at these things than even his older brother - an out and out liar himself with all natural instincts required for self-preservation. Perfect children for a slum!

And then, there is, of course, my angel - Kanimozhi. Studying in her third standard and all – big girl, I once told her just to see her smile - she was like a tiny little lamp in our dungeon.

“Rain Grandpa!” she came running to me with a big smile, bubbling with excitement.. I can keep looking at her for all my life. Little angel! My angel!

I often wondered why, a girl like her should be born in a place like this. I kept asking God this question again and again. But it was always silence. God never answers questions, does he? But that again, never prevented us from asking, did it?

A thought suddenly came to me.

A lotus amidst slime!

That’s what she is.

Maybe that was why she was born here - to beautify this place. And like the beautiful lotus that grows in the slime, nothing could tarnish her beauty. Maybe, it was God’s expression of love for this age old man.

God’s love? For me? Stop now!

It’s vanity to even think that God does something for a human, isn’t it? That too, for an insignificant, ignorant old man like me!

Murugesan and Kuppaye were fighting over something. But I did not even care to listen to it. For all I knew, they might have not even existed. All that my eyes noticed was the drops of tears flowing in the eyes of my Kanimozhi.

What compassion! What beauty! What love!

I felt like I was sitting in front of God watching him cry for humans who were fighting about insignificant things in life. And I was totally lost in it.

Have you ever felt completely lost? So lost in something that you don’t even remember who you are? When someone talks about you, you don’t react to it because you don’t even know that it is you they are talking about. Ever felt that?

I for one felt that at that time. It took me so much of time to realize that my son and my daughter-in-law were fighting over me! Kuppaye, was of course telling her husband that it was impossible to keep me here because of the simple fact that I was eating and it was an expense they could do without.

And Murugesan fought with the valor of a drunkard, not realizing what was being said, but only knowing that it was to be opposed.

And now, I could see why. I could understand the reason why my little angel was crying. The reason why my heart felt so much of love and joy. Now I see it.

I knew I could solve the problem in a jiffy. And so solve I did. I left that place. No big deal.

The good thing with old age is that there is nothing binding you to anything. You can walk out from the life of your loved ones anytime you want, knowing pretty well that death will take you in a short time away from them, anyway.

And at old age, you don’t care about food so much. You know that there is only so much you can take and that too if you don’t have it – well and good. God wants you to come to him faster. That is all.

Old age has its advantages. And its weakness too.

If I could, I would have done anything for my little angel. I would have drained the last drop of my blood just to fill her cup.

But in this old age, there is nothing much left to squeeze or to drain. Nothing much left to be done. So you close your eyes. And hope for the best.

Maybe she is like the lotus. Maybe God talks to us through thoughts. Who knows?

As I told you, at this age there is nothing much left to be done. Except close the eyes and hope for the best.

Or walk out and hope for the best, for that matter.

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