After lunch yesterday, I asked my sister if she wanted to go out for a walk. I needed some exercise myself and I know my sister loves walking as an exercise. In fact, she goes for a long, brisk walk every morning.

“Can we take the route I take every morning? I need to measure the distance. Can you use your watch to find out?”

“Sure thing!” We waited for dad to snooze off and then we headed out.

Turns out, she walks a little shy of 5 miles every day (7.5 km to be precise). It took us 1 hour 14 minutes. When we came back, instead of going up to my dad’s place, we went to my sister’s place (which is literally downstairs one floor in the same building). First, I did not want to wake up dad. I was going to take him out for a ride on his wheelchair later in the day. Plus, my brother in law had come back from his work. Figured will go chat with him for some time.

About forty five minutes later, a neighborhood girl came storming into my sister’s house and started screaming something very excitedly. After we calmed her down, we figured out that the whole neighborhood is in panic mode. My dad, apparently is out on the streets by himself.

Now you have to understand that my dad can barely get up to go to the bathroom. For him to be in the streets is fairly unbelievable. Plus who was pushing the wheelchair? All these questions were swirling in my mind when my brother in law raised the curtain in one of the windows and there you could see him – in clear eyesight – standing at the street corner looking left and then looking right – with his walker in his hand.

That is a very dangerous sight. He can barely hear. He was bound to get hit by passing traffic. Without even bothering to call the elevator, I ran down four floors and in about a minute was with him.

Trying my best to keep my calm, I asked whim hat did he think he was doing there. Completely ignoring me, he demanded to know what took me so long?

Finally, I put the picture together. Looks like he had woken up – perhaps right after my sister and I left and my mom let him know that we had gone for a walk to exercise. He dozed off again and then when he woke up the next time, we were still not back. Apparently, mom had gone off to sleep (she takes sedatives for her psychiatric condition). Totally helpless, he grabbed his walker and shuffled his way down the elevator to the streets!

“Raastay amaakey kothay khunje paabey?” (I asked him where was he going to find me in the streets?)

“Na, bhoy hochhilo gaaritey dhakka merechhe kina tokey”. (He was afraid that I might have gotten hit by a car or something).

The hilarity of the situation beggars description. He – who does not get up from bed and has not used the walker for over six months and cannot hear well is out there on the streets walking at about three feet a minute completely unaware of vehicles behind him worried that I AM THE ONE who might get hit by traffic.

The thought behind his action was overwhelming enough that I did not bother even gently holding him.

“Let’s go sit at that culvert”, I told him and we walked to a nearby sitting spot.

The biggest fear I have in life? For all the attention I have paid to my dad, what have I done for my mom? It is so easy to take the role of the caregiver for granted. I try to even bring up the topic of “what if mom dies before dad?” and I am summarily dismissed by everybody. My dad’s response is simply “I will die the next day”.

I have started getting a renewed feeling for my mom – not just as my mom- but also as my dad’s caregiver. My dad will not take any help from anybody else than my mom. There was a day when my mom said – I do not think she meant it the way I took it – “I am having to do a maid’s job”. As a son, you cannot imagine, how little I felt. One of my lowest moment in life. For all the things I can do, this is what my mom is reduced to do. That is how I felt.

And yet, thru this, she has complained very little. I have asked her to get all the help money can buy but she just would not do anything my dad would approve of. And my dad will not approve of anything that costs money on his accord.

This trip, I started following my mom’s footsteps a little closer. Here is a picture I never thought I would capture otherwise.

I watched my mom feed my dad (he does not have enough locomotory powers). Funnily enough, she was opening up her own mouth and sticking her tongue out ever so lightly – to prop him to do what she wanted him to do. Like he was a kid.

What a relationship between two life long partners! Captured right there!!

Here’s wishing to what she wants in her life after all those sacrifices has made.

And here’s a reminder to me why I need to be nice to Sharmila 🙂

Walked into our house this morning. Dad – who apparently does not get out of his bed these days, was sitting upright, waiting for me. After the usual “What took so much time?” “Have you eaten anything” and all those father-like questions that really are not important (Natasha, I think, I now know how you feel – but in our defense, dads can’t help being dads and in further defense, nobody else can help being dads), we settled down.

It did not take too long for him to get to one of his pet things… “I am afraid we are going to run out of money. You need to help me.” Now, for a background, he is nowhere close to running out of money. None of this three children are going to let him get even remotely close to that situation. But one of the remnant effects from the brain stroke two and a half years back is that he has no recollection of his wealth and has no idea how things are being paid for.

Unlike any body else in my family – including Sharmila – I do not deal with him with reason (that part of his brain is fried, no point) instead, I take the route of an asymmetrical attack with humor.

So, I talked about Natasha. Which always perks up his interests. He cannot believe that his granddaughter’s writings is published for the world to see. In about two minutes, he asked – “How much are you having to pay for her college?”. I gave him the number in dollars. In fact gave it for four years, for all it is worth.

“What does that mean in Indian rupees?”
I dutifully multiplied it by 70 and told him.

“Ei morecchey! Eto taaka kothay paabi?” He was concerned how was I going to pay for her college.

“I do not know. Can you lend me some money?”

That is when he laughed out aloud – monkey cap and all – and even narrated some great lines from a Bengali poet…
“Aajkey je raajadhiraaj / Kaal se bhikhey chai”

(The emperor today will be left to reducing to begging… such is the cycle of time)

He did get the import of the humor though. “Sob i to theek choley jaachhey. Aami-i bodh hoi bhool korchhi” (Seems like everything is working out fine. I think I am the one misunderstanding)

Another cup of tea, anyone?