A man of worth (654 words)

 

My son virtually drove me out this morning. I bear him no ill feeling. In his position, I may have done the same.

He had lost the job he had held for twenty-two years due to downsizing. With no special skills, a quarrelsome wife, and four children to feed, life had become miserable. The few months’ salary he received as compensation was already spent. In such circumstances, a worthless old father with no income was easily dispensable.

He asked me to forgive him, saying it was for my own good. He advised me to join an old-age home for the poor. At least there, he said, I would be sure of a little gruel instead of starving in his house. He promised to take me back once things improved. There was truth in what he said, though it was painful to hear.

I loved my only son dearly. He had always been a good boy, kind, dutiful, and respectful. However, the crushing weight of poverty had driven him to this desperate act. What hurt me most, however, were the harsh words of my daughter-in-law:

“What is the earthly use of feeding this worthless old man who can’t even bring in a paltry hundred rupees a month?”

I sat in the local temple for hours, not knowing where to go or where this old-age home was. When the sun went down, I began walking along the busy road in search of a place to spend the night. Those I asked about the old age home claimed no knowledge of such a poor home.

I hadn’t eaten all day, except for a banana someone had given me at the temple. At one point, someone dropped a two-rupee coin near me, mistaking me for a beggar. Weak with hunger and dizziness, I spotted a tea shop across the road. I started to cross, and then everything went dark.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself in what seemed to be a hospital. Tubes ran through my body, bottles hung above me, and I could see doctors and nurses moving about with serious faces. A policeman stood silently in the corner.

Someone said, “The patient is showing signs of consciousness. He’s opened his eyes.”

A young doctor came closer and asked gently, “Where do you live, Thatha (grandpa)? Do you have any son or daughter we can call?”

“No,” I replied. “Please don’t disturb my son. He is very poor and cannot pay even a rupee. Leave me alone. I have no desire to live.”

The doctor frowned. “Thatha, your condition is serious. We are obliged to inform your family.”

“If you believe I will not live,” I said, “tell me honestly. I would like to donate any organs that are still good. Whatever money they fetch, please give it to my son. I’m saying this in full consciousness. If I can’t sign, you can call the policeman as witness. If you agree, I’ll give you my son’s address.”

The young doctor took my hand. “Thatha, we are doing everything we can to save you. But we have heard your wish and will honour it if the need arises. Please, give me the address.”

I told him my son’s address. Then the world faded again in a short while, and I felt weightless.

When I next became aware, I heard the sound of my son sobbing beside me, striking his head in anguish, his wife weeping quietly nearby. The doctor was explaining to him about my last wish and that patients were waiting for organs like eyes, kidneys, and liver, and that he would receive a few lakhs from it, in addition to the compensation for the truck driver’s mistake in ignoring the signal.

A deep calm filled me. My son and his family would be safe and comfortable.

At last, I could leave this world knowing that I was not, after all, a worthless old man.