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He told the doctor that this man lives in his home with a housekeeper and himself. They shifted here from the big mansion some time back He has two sons, both of them the lightweight has never met but has seen pictures of them. They call once in a blue moon and his Baabuji refuses to talk to them .Kashi, the elder son brought him here to take care of the old man.
From the time chotu came the old man was top-notch up until sometime before. He was in love with eating, playing cards and ludo, he is very competitive, he never gives up, and metallic pens that one has to keep dipping in ink in order to write and other conventional ways to keep an old man busy. From the past few months he used to spend most of his time in his den isolating himself from everyone even this young lad.
“There is something more to it’’ he claimed with certainty. He made an effort to dig up the times gone by in the old chap’s life. Feeling paralyzed, he would do anything to aid the gray beard.
The doctor came to know that he had stopped talking and would merely eat that too when this two-bit ,the new man of the made it mandatory that the old man would only be left alone if and only if ate his food.
Prateek Sehajpal ,a good old loyal friend scampering through to Dr Puri’s cabin, convulsively breathing ,“How are things?’’ he asked.
Without a pause he shouted “Those…Those Kashi and Anoop and their actions are the root cause behind this condition of his. He worked all his life to bestow them with everything they wished for. The only time they would bear the trouble of calling their Bauji is when they stand in need of his wealth.” He stood there with a frowl on his face.
“What could have possibly gone wrong?” the doctor just stood there ever so confused.
“Hello, Mr. Mehta? Mr, Sehajpal here” he did not hang around for the advocate to answer.
“Mr. Amar Raj is in the hospital, he doesn’t have much time and the doctor wants to know if you noticed anything unusual with him?” he asked without a pause.
“Yes!” he replied hastily overlapping the question with his answer.
Dr. Puri in a conversation with himself says “The tests and reports suggested that he was absolutely fine physically but in his head he had already given up. He seemed to have no motive to live anymore; his mind is trying to convince his heart that its time…. time that it should stop beating.
Winning this time for him would mean losing everything The man who never gives up, this time gave up without fighting”.
They kept monitoring him, trying everything that could have been possible but you cannot save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.
The long beep and the silence afterwards was deafening resulted in perfect silence at the most imperfect situations of them all.
He won the battle….of losing his meaningless life. The old man has departed this stage of existence and has gone to a better place, a place of eternal peace.
To the young wit it came as a massive shock whereas Dr. Puri and Mr. Sehajpal were filled with remorse, they felt as if it was their flaw. The last rights were performed by the clueless, blank and at present numb little chotu. Kashi and Anoop couldn’t make it.
Chotu was struggling to keep himself just alive. He lived in the periphery of the city where He worked as a day laborer, a tea vendor, a barber and anything that didn’t make him question his morals. Kaashi and Anoop went back to their lives which no one knew nothing about after finding out that the old man has sold the entirety and they are getting only his blessings.
Recognizing the voice and with an aching heart getting flashbacks of the time he had spent with Baabu ji, He came running outside.
After having a glass of water and a thorough look at his room the man in the black coat asked “I am sorry for whatever happened but you went missing after Bau ji’s death. We tried to locate you.”
With his eyes a bit misty and not thinking about his current state for even a second, he only had Baabu ji and the everlasting memories in his mind.
“The police and the court were not able to trace where Bau Ji’s inheritance went. The only thing he left behind was his legacy, his name for his children to use and the books he gave you.
We thought if you can tell us what is written in it we might get a link or just a hint!”
With a little smile he said “ha-ha! I wish I could read, I still have those with me only because it once belonged to Baabu Ji, but you can have a look if you find anything. Who am I to stop you?”
“These books are extremely heavy ” said Mr. Mehta in a failed attempt to carry two of those books at once.
They read ‘They thought I didn’t know’, ‘I knew’ with ‘God bless Chotu’ in between at times in the whole of eight books on every single page.
Chotu was in tears. He didn’t even try to contain his emotions this time.
Chotu kept two of the books on the wooden shelf above his head to make room and the nail came out…slamming the books and the wooden plank onto the floor.
“Something isn’t right” said Mr. Mehta to himself as he heard a different sound, unlike what it would be like when a book slammed on the floor, leaving as fast as his legs could carry.
Few hours later…
He came back with the cops, court officials, and a man who appeared to be one of the elites. Dr. Puri got there too at almost the same time.
The cops quickly got a hold Chotu and the books in the presence of court officials were handed over to a guy who seemed to be a man of substance and he started to tear the pages apart that very instant.
Chotu couldn’t help his emotions and trashed everyone there particularly the one who shred last relic of his Baabu Ji to pieces. He was exhausted from the crying and screaming in an effort to stop it from happening to the point where he turned motionless and where the cops became the only reason of him standing on his own two feet.
Dr. Puri helped him regain his composure as the man unknown tossed a few pages in a pan and lit a flame underneath. He seemed critical in leaving no trace behind of the departed soul. The paper instantly caught fire left not only ash but some liquid substance behind.
They allowed it to cool down and settle.On an attempt to find out what it could have been everyone just stood there without budging an inch, their attention steadily fixed at what the man were to say.
“Pure gold..Purest that exists” the man said in disbelief.
The time stood still
It more or less explained the shifting to his ancestral house, the isolation, books, titanium pens and ink, the fire place in summer, and the sudden descent in his health.
“He did what he felt was right, he cared for you as much as you cared for him.”
He knew...
Quarter past 2 in the night, A small boy rushed into the hospital with tears flowing down his eyes, just behind him were 2 guys in whites hurriedly pushing an old man, the man known to be the biggest gold merchant in town,Amar Raj, on a stretcher into the emergency room. The word spread soon that another patient had checked in the hospital and also that he might kick the bucket.
Dr. Puri was given the case and he didn’t waste a second and started running tests thinking at the back of his mind that this atleast an eighty year old soul might not make it.
"Get him into the ICU" he shouted. He used the flashlight only to find out that the old man's pupils are dialated.
"Do you not hear me? He needs oxygen, quick." It was more of a shriek this time.
The high dose of a blood thinner and an adrenaline shot was injected with a hope of a miracle from the deity.
"Here are the test reports doctors" said Pramod, the attendant.
The attendant could see the tense and rather alarmed look on the doctor's face but couldn't help but notice his glowing bald forehead under the hospital lights.
The doctor looked at barely breathing old man "But...how?" he questioned to no one but himself.
The reports seemed okay but the man lying there didn't. The small boy with dark circles bigger than his eyes gasping for breath pulled Dr. Puri's coat and could only say the words "baabuji... Baa..baabuji.. "
The doctor calmed the little boy down with a curiosity emerged inside him to find out what led this man with a perfectly alright frame to such a state, as they both waited for the rest of the test reports.
He gave him juice and the little guy soon got lost into the tangy flavor of it.
The little guy told the doctor that his name is Chotu and as far as he could remember he had little glimpses of his family and the miseries they lived in but after that the old man is all he knows. Reports came, everything was normal except the situation Dr. Puri had found himself in.
Questioning 28 years of his doctorate experience he scratched his head only to realize he has no hair which only magnified the misery. He tried to determine what might have happened with this man of unfathomable fortune. The little guy came to his rescue.
He told the doctor that this man lives in his home with a housekeeper and himself. They shifted here from the big mansion some time back He has two sons, both of them the lightweight has never met but has seen pictures of them. They call once in a blue moon and his Baabuji refuses to talk to them .Kashi, the elder son brought him here to take care of the old man.
From the time chotu came the old man was top-notch up until sometime before. He was in love with eating, playing cards and ludo, he is very competitive, he never gives up, and metallic pens that one has to keep dipping in ink in order to write and other conventional ways to keep an old man busy. From the past few months he used to spend most of his time in his den isolating himself from everyone even this young lad.
“There is something more to it’’ he claimed with certainty. He made an effort to dig up the times gone by in the old chap’s life. Feeling paralyzed, he would do anything to aid the gray beard.
The doctor came to know that he had stopped talking and would merely eat that too when this two-bit ,the new man of the made it mandatory that the old man would only be left alone if and only if ate his food.
Prateek Sehajpal ,a good old loyal friend scampering through to Dr Puri’s cabin, convulsively breathing ,“How are things?’’ he asked.
Without a pause he shouted “Those…Those Kashi and Anoop and their actions are the root cause behind this condition of his. He worked all his life to bestow them with everything they wished for. The only time they would bear the trouble of calling their Bauji is when they stand in need of his wealth.” He stood there with a frowl on his face.
“What could have possibly gone wrong?” the doctor just stood there ever so confused.
“I might know a man who can answer to queries” replied Mr. Sehajpal with signs of agony in his voice.Both of them tried to get in touch with Tanmay Mehta, the advocate to this old man. He was not in town hence the only feasible way to know the truth is through a phone call.
“Hello, Mr. Mehta? Mr, Sehajpal here” he did not hang around for the advocate to answer.
“Mr. Amar Raj is in the hospital, he doesn’t have much time and the doctor wants to know if you noticed anything unusual with him?” he asked without a pause.
“Yes!” he replied hastily overlapping the question with his answer.
“and I am not his advocate anymore, he relinquished me from the job just after he sold every single one of his assets, his property, his investments, his stocks, his bonds, except his old ancestral mud house where he wanted to move after its restoration and his stack of books. He insisted on his need of a hearth even though the winters were no way near and he just wouldn’t take no for an answer He kept saying that his sons thought he didn’t know.
He knew….all this time he knew”.
He knew….all this time he knew”.
Dr. Puri in a conversation with himself says “The tests and reports suggested that he was absolutely fine physically but in his head he had already given up. He seemed to have no motive to live anymore; his mind is trying to convince his heart that its time…. time that it should stop beating.
Winning this time for him would mean losing everything The man who never gives up, this time gave up without fighting”.
They kept monitoring him, trying everything that could have been possible but you cannot save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.
The long beep and the silence afterwards was deafening resulted in perfect silence at the most imperfect situations of them all.
He……..is no more.
He won the battle….of losing his meaningless life. The old man has departed this stage of existence and has gone to a better place, a place of eternal peace.
To the young wit it came as a massive shock whereas Dr. Puri and Mr. Sehajpal were filled with remorse, they felt as if it was their flaw. The last rights were performed by the clueless, blank and at present numb little chotu. Kashi and Anoop couldn’t make it.
It took the traumatized chotu weeks to actually get a hold of what had happened.
The little kid who knew nothing of the outside world was struggling just to survive. Soon the word spread, the old man had sold everything and that meant his kids were getting nothing in inheritance. Except the little kid who just wouldn’t stop crying got 8 huge books which everyone guessed were written by the old man himself.
The little kid who knew nothing of the outside world was struggling just to survive. Soon the word spread, the old man had sold everything and that meant his kids were getting nothing in inheritance. Except the little kid who just wouldn’t stop crying got 8 huge books which everyone guessed were written by the old man himself.
Eight years passed….
Chotu was struggling to keep himself just alive. He lived in the periphery of the city where He worked as a day laborer, a tea vendor, a barber and anything that didn’t make him question his morals. Kaashi and Anoop went back to their lives which no one knew nothing about after finding out that the old man has sold the entirety and they are getting only his blessings.
“Anyone home?” shouted advocate Tanmay Mehta standing outside chotu’s room with stained curtains and no door.
Recognizing the voice and with an aching heart getting flashbacks of the time he had spent with Baabu ji, He came running outside.
After having a glass of water and a thorough look at his room the man in the black coat asked “I am sorry for whatever happened but you went missing after Bau ji’s death. We tried to locate you.”
With his eyes a bit misty and not thinking about his current state for even a second, he only had Baabu ji and the everlasting memories in his mind.
“The police and the court were not able to trace where Bau Ji’s inheritance went. The only thing he left behind was his legacy, his name for his children to use and the books he gave you.
We thought if you can tell us what is written in it we might get a link or just a hint!”
With a little smile he said “ha-ha! I wish I could read, I still have those with me only because it once belonged to Baabu Ji, but you can have a look if you find anything. Who am I to stop you?”
“These books are extremely heavy ” said Mr. Mehta in a failed attempt to carry two of those books at once.
They read ‘They thought I didn’t know’, ‘I knew’ with ‘God bless Chotu’ in between at times in the whole of eight books on every single page.
Chotu was in tears. He didn’t even try to contain his emotions this time.
Disappointed “Everyone knows except his own sons that he knew what they were after” said the one who knew more than just how to read.
Chotu kept two of the books on the wooden shelf above his head to make room and the nail came out…slamming the books and the wooden plank onto the floor.
“Something isn’t right” said Mr. Mehta to himself as he heard a different sound, unlike what it would be like when a book slammed on the floor, leaving as fast as his legs could carry.
Few hours later…
He came back with the cops, court officials, and a man who appeared to be one of the elites. Dr. Puri got there too at almost the same time.
“I guess, Mr. Mehta isn’t the guy I thought he was” Chotu murmured to himself thinking that the cops are after him courtesy of the fact that Mr. Mehta might have found something in those books and didn’t tell him.
The cops quickly got a hold Chotu and the books in the presence of court officials were handed over to a guy who seemed to be a man of substance and he started to tear the pages apart that very instant.
Chotu couldn’t help his emotions and trashed everyone there particularly the one who shred last relic of his Baabu Ji to pieces. He was exhausted from the crying and screaming in an effort to stop it from happening to the point where he turned motionless and where the cops became the only reason of him standing on his own two feet.
Dr. Puri helped him regain his composure as the man unknown tossed a few pages in a pan and lit a flame underneath. He seemed critical in leaving no trace behind of the departed soul. The paper instantly caught fire left not only ash but some liquid substance behind.
They allowed it to cool down and settle.
On an attempt to find out what it could have been everyone just stood there without budging an inch, their attention steadily fixed at what the man were to say.
“Pure gold..Purest that exists” the man said in disbelief.
The time stood still
The doctor tried to put the situation into words and put Chotu out of his misery.
“Mr. Amar Raj knew it indeed” said the doctor with his voice a bit heavy.
“Chotu this is Pargat Singh,a goldsmith. He worked for Bau Ji.”
“You emerged as his son when he needed it the most. Your Baabu Ji knew that his own blood would come after you if he had left everything to your name.
They would drag you to court and eventually play a fast one to take hold of everything. He turned every asset into gold and named it to the one who stood by him in health and in sickness knowing that his off springs wouldn’t care for some stupid books written by him”
They would drag you to court and eventually play a fast one to take hold of everything. He turned every asset into gold and named it to the one who stood by him in health and in sickness knowing that his off springs wouldn’t care for some stupid books written by him”
It more or less explained the shifting to his ancestral house, the isolation, books, titanium pens and ink, the fire place in summer, and the sudden descent in his health.
“He did what he felt was right, he cared for you as much as you cared for him.”
Chotu was on his knees, moved, in tears…. and now the rightful owner of Amar Raj’s inheritance.
A short story by Gurkirpal Singh
A short story by Gurkirpal Singh
