Atul's Tryst with Truth (982 words)

 

Atul loved his Dada ji(grandfather) with all his heart. He cherished every moment spent with him, listening to his stories and conversations. The old man, well into his eighties, adored his grandson. Though the old man had three sons and two daughters, he stayed with Atul’s father the eldest with his other siblings living abroad.

Despite being only ten years old, Atul was a precocious boy and was fully aware that his mother viewed the old man as a burden imposed on her. She despised him and often insulted him for whatever he did or didn’t do.  His father remained indifferent and never confronted Atul’s mother about her rude behaviour. This attitude saddened Atul. He was not aware that this passive role of his dad stemmed from his preference not to upset his wife further in the absence of other options.

Atul’s favourite activity was taking strolls in the park opposite their house with Dadaji. The old man would entertain him with stories from his younger days and often advised him to be truthful, no matter the consequences. Atul, curious and thoughtful, would sometimes challenge him by asking, "What if telling the truth harms an innocent person? Would you still tell it ?"

Dadaji would smile proudly and say, "The truth should always be spoken when it serves a good purpose." He never complained about anyone even after hurtful insults though Atul cringed at his mom’s petulance.

Lately, though, Dadaji had been saying something that made Atul uneasy: “I’m biding my time. I feel it will happen soon. Promise me, no matter what, that you will take care of your parents with love and care, and never make them feel unhappy.”

“Dadaji, I know you’re unhappy sometimes. I am too when Mom shouts at you. I hate her for it,” Atul would reply, his voice full of frustration.

Dadaji would gently admonish him, “You must never talk like that. I’m disappointed with you. Never speak ill of others, no matter what they do or say.”

Atul was often scolded by his mother for spending too much time with his grandfather and she frequently complained about it to his father. No one in the house spoke to Dadaji. Atul’s father, who returned late from work, would spend time with his mother in front of the TV. Dadaji’s room was at the rear of the house, far from the rest of the family. Occasionally, his father would visit him, only to loudly remind him to "adjust to the ways of the house" and "not be a nuisance," though he never clarified what he meant. Atul, perceptive as he was, understood that his father said these things only to appease his mother.

Atul also knew his mother diluted Dadaji’s coffee with water and often gave him leftover or cold food. She made him eat alone at the dining table, much before the family sat down together for dinner. After his early lunch at 11 a.m., Dadaji had nothing to eat until 7 p.m. except for a cup of tea and a few biscuits at 4 p.m. Atul knew his grandfather was often hungry and would sneak cookies from the kitchen after school to share with Dada ji.

 Dadaji had a sweet tooth, but his mother rarely gave him any sweets, even though Atul’s father regularly brought home sweet packets. She would keep them in the fridge for days, only to give them away to the maid later. One afternoon, while Atul’s mother was out, leaving him and his grandfather alone at home, Atul became engrossed in a computer game and forgot about the time.

When he finally went downstairs at 4:30 p.m., he found Dadaji in the kitchen, opening a box of pedas he had taken from the fridge. Atul smiled and said, “Dadaji, you could’ve called me. Never mind, I’m hungry too. Let’s eat together.” They finished all five pedas in the box.

Around 7 p.m., Atul heard his mother shouting at the top of her voice. “Nothing is safe in this house! How can I lock the fridge every time I go out?”

She called out, “Atul, did you eat all the pedas from the full box I kept in the fridge? I was going to send them to my mother! It’s missing. I’m sure you wouldn’t touch it, so who else could have stolen it except the ever-hungry glutton in this miserable house?”

Atul, angry, shouted back, “Don’t accuse without knowing! I was hungry, and I checked the fridge. There were only five pedas, not a whole box as you’re saying. I ate them and shared them with Dadaji. What’s wrong with that? You can call me a hungry glutton or whatever you like, but Dadaji hadn’t even had his tea by then. It was 5 p.m.! I hate how you’re always shouting at him. I don’t want to live in this house anymore.”

Dadaji, who had heard everything from his room, felt tears trickle down his cheeks. His grandson had taken the blame to shield him from his mother’s wrath. A little while later, Atul entered his room and said, “Dadaji, I wasn’t truthful, but it was for a good reason.”

The old man hugged him tightly and kissed his forehead. “Come to see me first thing in the morning, before anyone else comes to my room. Do you understand, my little buddy?” The boy laughed and ran off.

The next morning, Atul woke up earlier than usual and remembered Dadaji’s request. He rushed to his side, only to find him sleeping unusually late. Gently nudging him, first softly and then harder, Atul quickly realized that Dadaji’s time had come, and he had finally found the peace he had longed for.

He could hardly suppress a mournful groan when he saw a small book of quotations lying by his side with a tag scrawled ‘To Dear Atul'  in Dada Ji's hand.