Tales of India - 7

During my Engineering college days, train journeys were normal. The long journey from Kochi to Jamshedpur, which almost took two days were more pleasure rather than dreary and laborious. The compartments were with open windows, guarded with parallel metal bars, an airconditioned cabin seemed like a luxury beyond means and need. The gust of the wind, the hair that would flirt it and the strong dusty breeze pinching your face seemed fun. And then the food that often came in leaves of the local variety and the snacks and fruits which were popular in every region we passed through.

But years passed, and I sacrificed these sojourns to the excuse of time and settled to flights. But then there was the occasional train journey to a manufacturing plant, a cement plant, a chemical factory etc. which seemed to be hidden away from civilization as if it were a blip on the manicured landscape of the cities. So, when a client suggested that we visit a factory which she wanted to buy, it required us to make a six-hour journey by train, the feelings were mixed.

Since the team had been there for a week before, I was to go and have a final meeting on some questions we had on the diligence reports primarily based on capacity, the product portfolio and the usual set around their business projections etc. Unlike the usual onus of presentation, this time we were to sit through the client team’s presentations. The journey was actually lonely, in a Chair Car, as they call it, not very populated and the muffled windows seemed to barricade me from the world outside and I felt like sitting in a casserole rather than an airy compartment.  So much for raking no nostalgia at all and settling in to read a book from the Slough House series by Mick Herron.

The factory seemed like any other, though remarkably well kept and maintained and the client team was courteous to find an internet mugshot of mine and make a small ‘Welcome poster’ at the main reception of the admin building. Seemed like a pic from a decade ago, I smiled – well, I am looking young somewhere!

The plant head was absent in the initial interactions, which was a little irritating considering we made the planes, trains and automobiles for the trip. Towards the fag end of the day and interactions, where every important question was dallied with the regular response ‘VP Sir will answer that question’ – and I was cautious not to show much irritation and graciously smile. Now the face muscles were aching from too many smiles …

Around four in the evening, Mr. T (or we will call him that) walked in. A tall man, who looked lean with a wiry body, tired eyes and wrinkles of sadness around his forehead and contours of his face. He came in a gave me a hug, fairly uncharacteristic for someone who is meeting me for the first time. “Sorry, Mr. Nair, some urgencies and I could not make it in the morning” He wrapped up all the questions in the next hour and we were quite satisfied and glad about the responses and ticked all the boxes of the checklist we set out to mark out. “Will you join me for a coffee at my home, my bungalow is just outside the main gate.” I gladly agreed after the multiple doses of halfhearted machine coffee during the day.

A short drive with him, we drove into a porchway of a large house with a good green patch of pared lawns outside in the front of the house. Large pillars, very tall ceilings, white marble façade, the house looked more like a museum than the warmth of a home. An orderly dressed in white came with a pot of coffee and Mr. T served me a cuppa himself. Nice coffee, I thought, and my mood lifted a notch immediately.

After a few remarks on the house, my eyes went on the black marble sculpture of a dog curled up in a corner at one end of the plush carpet which covered most of the living space around our sofas. And then wanting to strike a conversation – “What about family? Children?”, I asked. He made an attempt a smile and mentioned “No, Mr. Nair, I am single “. An eerie silence clouded around as the grey sky outside.

“We separated long ago. She is a banker in Mumbai now.”

I nodded and was jogging my grey matter to find something insightful to say ...

“Regular love marriage starting from Engineering college, and we just could not wait to get married. The families were happy, we were happy, and we settled in immediately after.”

I put on my listening look but was also surprised at his openness. “We could not make it last for more five years”.

He then took two sips from his cup and continued “When I think back, it is all about stories… We had a love story that embellished our time together. She had a story to get separated, her higher studies, her aspirations, her monotony. I had a story for separating – my purposeful work, need to focus on my career, wanting to start a family soon. And then there was that story – which remained unsaid – a story that just needed us to sit and talk together and sort it out. And we did not have the patience then to talk it out.”

I avoided his sad eyes and the distant look in his eyes, and he was not looking at me now and staring at the blankness behind me.

“Close to two decades alone and the Roscoe came …” He pointed to the large portrait of a black Labrador behind me … I turned and looked at the very well painted picture. Pic had baubles around and a tennis ball in his mouth.

“He was part of the litter of a colleague’s dog, and he insisted that I try having a pet” … While I was not keen at first, Roscoe just rolled into my life. He was everything and was everywhere. Grazing my feet while I walk, sleeping next to where I am, cuddling around my pillow at night – “that is him” – he pointed to the marble structure of the lying dog near the end of the carpet.

“He passed away, two years back on this day after a short lifetime of happiness and memories. No day has been the same again” … His eyes welled up and stood up and walked behind the sofa and hunched and held the top of the sofa, “I just could not bring myself to work in the morning.”

I nodded an acknowledged, nearly politely muttering “No problem” … Come, I will show you resting place”. He then walked over stroked the marble sculpture and we walked to the back of the house. The back yard was even more beautiful, tall trees, a patch of lawn and finely strewn leaves everywhere. At a corner was a rectangular slab with carefully cut tall blades of grass. We came near it “this is where he rests” … A gentle breeze swayed the grass, and he said “Every time I come here, I think he wags his tail and the grass blades sway in harmony “… My eyes welled up too … “I think there is not bigger punishment than when you outlive your children – Roscoe was that son, I always wanted to have…”  he continued, “I retire next year, and when I reflect back, I think God answered all my prayers – I wanted wisdom – He gave me problems to solve, I asked him for strength, he gave me difficulties to weather, and I asked him for unconditional love – he gave me Roscoe!”

I returned the same evening, thinking more of him and Roscoe than the consulting project, the chance encounter and thinking of those things in life which are so important to us, but it may not resonate with others.

Years later, come circa 2024, we have been pet-parents for four years now. The banter at home is that the cocker spaniel puppy at home does not know he is adopted, nor have we told him, so he thinks, he is our child and our daughter his sibling. Any day, come what may, the affection, the meticulous licking of the face, every nanometer with his licks as if, he tries to do a complete painting job. Every time you walk in – the dance of joy; every early morning flight, he looks at you with the saddest of eyes and seems to whisper, ‘Don’t go!” is gut wrenching … And yes, the tail wag – you feel like you have been blessed and have done something truly special to get that affection!