An Old Umbrella

He walked straight into the ‘Barista’ and stood for a minute to feel the comfort of AC. It was burning outside that café. The sun rays were plunging on to the surface of the earth with its full intensity. The moisture from air was long gone and the wind was carrying only dust and pollution. While the heat was bashing on the glass doors of café, it was soothing and cool inside it.

He was 60+ and his skin had countless wrinkles. He was wearing a white shirt which no longer resembled its true shine. It had become pale brownish, thanks to the expensive vehicles running wildly on the roads. His pants were parallel and black in color. His shoes were perhaps the style symbol of 80s but for now it was nothing but stale. Its color was unidentified and skin was scratched to anonymity by the time. He was carrying an umbrella covered with a plastic wrapper. It was big and the standard one which had been already banned by the young community.  

He stood with closed eyes for almost a minute and then sat down. The attendants and waiters of the café saw him fiercely; as if understood that he was there only to take some cold air. They could not tolerate that one of their exquisite tables was occupied by an incumbent un-buyer. What if most of the tables were unoccupied and there were not even a handful of customers, this old man was definitely harming their reputation by his obnoxious outfit and unwelcome personality. The manager signaled one of his subordinates to address the unlikely emergency.

‘What would you like to have sir?’

The attendant threw a question with a big but fake smile on his face (as if purchased from some peddler in a lost bargain).

The old man got nervous and looked at the smiling face of the attendant. His expressionless face indicated that he had no idea what to say or order. The smile on the face of attendant grew bigger, almost crossing the limitations of his cheek.

“If you want to sit here, you need to order something…if you are not sure I can give you our menu-card…you can choose something from it.”

The suggestion was reasonable. Old man shook his head in agreement. The attendant didn’t waste a single second in giving him a menu card.

’59.00, 69.00, 89.00…399.00’, the old man browsed through the entire menu with an astonishment on his face. He could feel Goosebumps on his body owing to the prices. He at once stood up and headed towards the gate. He thought if he would stay there the attendant would definitely make him purchase something. He had only 100 rupee note in the pocket which was his fare for the bus. With his umbrella held tightly in one hand, he quickly touched his upper pocket by the other hand to make sure that the note was still there. Everyone’s sarcastic laugh escorted him to the door and pushed him out.

He felt scared of looking back. He quickly moved towards a building with big strides. The wind crashed with his face and burnt even the tiniest amount of moisture hiding in the pores of his skin, leaving the face partially scorched.     

After walking almost a kilometer, he entered a big air-conditioned building. It was swarming with people. Everyone looked at him in disgust. The crowd was well dressed and their ‘so called’ mannerism was pasted on their faces as a pass to enter that building. The old man looked more like a perfect blot in their perfumed ambiance. He looked here and there in fear and confusion.

“What do you want old man?”

The guard rushed towards the old man and asked rudely, as if he was a threat to his employment.

“I am here to see my son. It is his birthday.”

“What is the name of your son?” The guard stared him viciously.

“Rudra Kumar Sharma”

The old man handed over a visiting card to the guard.

“You are his father?”

“Yes”

The guard looked astonished. He signaled the old man to sit on the sofa placed near the reception area. He went to the other guard who had the authority to dial numbers. He told him about the old man. The other guard too looked in deep cynicism. He twitched his shoulders and dialed a number.

Rudra Kumar Sharma or RD was marketing manager of the company. He was agile and dynamic. MBA in marketing and six-sigma certified. He was one of the most admired employees working there. 

Old man sat on the sofa and started looking everywhere. The centralized AC was giving him a good feeling. He kept the umbrella beside him and wiped his face with the handkerchief; perhaps wanted to look dust free and confident when his son approaches.

“Sir, he is in meeting.” The guard broke his sanity process.

“How much time would it take?”

“Nobody knows sir…could be hours? Why don’t you come tomorrow?”

“I want to meet him today…it’s his birthday…I will wait.”

The guard opened his mouth to say something but decided against it. He turned towards his designated place and tried to keep off his eyes from that old man.

The old man pasted his eye sight on a painting. It had bright colors, lively and blissful. He could not understand that what exactly was painted but he could see shards and boxes of different dimensions. Its outline was distinct and vibrant. May be it was a 3d painting.

A man walked anxiously outside his house. He was sweating and his heartbeat was out of control. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. His breath was fast and deep. He was holding a cloth piece in his hand which was being used to wipe out the constantly flowing sweat.  His body was slumping forward and steps were toddling. He clutched the washbasin made in the gallery for support; he could not endure the pain of waiting anymore. Practically, it was his wife who was going through the labor of delivering the baby but the trail of pain was evidently visible on his face.

“Sir…”

The guard saved the old man from reliving those painful moments. The old man almost got shaken by guard’s sudden voice.

“Sir, you have been waiting for hours now. May be sir is very busy in meeting. Please come tomorrow.”

“I have waited 4 hours at his birth time…there was no one to help at that time. It is the same day today. Have you informed him that his father is here?” Old man smiled.

“Yes…in fact, I have informed the receptionist there. I am sure she would have delivered the message.”

“Can’t you dial on his mobile directly?”

“No sir…I could not…I just tried but it is coming not reachable.”

“Then I guess I have no option but to wait.”

The guard had nothing to say. He scratched his head and after rearranging his cap, he went to his position again.   

“It is an opportunity of overtime and you are saying no to it. Are you in your senses?” Ramesh, a 29 years old manager was almost staggered.

 “Yes sir.”

 “You know that the compensation we offer for overtime is double…right?”

“Yes”

“And you want to go home just because it is your son’s birthday and you don’t want to be late today?”

“Yes”

Manager shook his head in distrust and waved his hand towards the door. He looked at the manager with an expressionless face and moved out of the door. He knew that he was saying ‘No’ to the manager which could prove very costly in later stages. His manager was crooked and a wicked man. He either would put pressure on him at work or can even fire him as well. But he had not missed a single birthday of his son in years and he wanted to continue this trend.

The old man had been waiting for almost the whole day. It was evening now. He was changing his position frequently now, which indicated his anxiety and uneasiness. Now the centralized Ac was no longer soothing, it was chilling. The cold air he inhaled had started to freeze his emotions and fatherly love. His blood pumped up and down. He tried to concentrate on different things but his patience had betrayed him already. People’s eyes were blistering his heart and his brain was haunted by their whispers. He looked at the guard. He had a pitiful look.

The old man stood up and walked towards the gate with a heavy heart. He limped throughout the gallery. His confidence was crushed and trust was shattered on the marble floor of that multi-storey building. His love was lost in the buzzing sound of different voices. He kept on limping until he reached outside. Slowly like a melting ice cube, he disappeared in fainting light of the sun.

The guard suddenly found that old man was gone. He walked near the sofa, the umbrella was still there. He picked it up. It was carefully wrapped in plastic and there was a small note inside it.

“Did he leave it?” The second guard asked.

“Yes”

“Poor he”

“His son must be one of the biggest scoundrels to disrespect such a loving father.”

“Don’t say that”

“Why?”

“You don’t know but there is a sad story.”

“What?”

“His son had died couple of years ago in an accident…right in front of this gate.”

“Oh”

“He came here last year as well…poor father…”

The guard said nothing but opened the note with tears in his eyes.

‘Happy Birthday…Son…I am gifting you my favorite umbrella which have you always liked.

-          From your loving father’

The heat outside reduced and there was no wind anymore. Everything looked still and calm. People were still swarming but somehow there was a silence…a post death silence.