I had forgotten the way to his office. The last time I had been to his office was over ten years ago. I asked the vendors for directions, and located the building. I recognized the old wooden stairway that led to his office. The sight warmed my heart because I knew that at the end of these stairs, was a place that had offered me solace and hope in my most difficult times. The wood was old, but solid; it could carry your weight without giving away. It had lost its luster, but its deep tone imparted an unmatched elegance to it. I couldn't help thinking that the character of this stairway was very much like the man I was about to meet. A man of solid character who could carry the burden of the people who entrusted him with their troubles, and whose depth accommodated the spectrum of human nature with ease.
The stairs led to an open balcony where old wooden benches were laid out for people to sit. You could sit on the benches and be an inconspicuous observer, lapping up the sights and sounds of the ever-expanding town. The walls were painted a dull yellow- sober, and yet warm enough. The tiled roof was supplemented by the overhanging branches of old trees that kept out the harsh rays of the sun and bathed the building in their shade. The building was old; it had survived amidst the concrete structures that were slowly eroding the spirit of the town. There was something modest and comforting about these old buildings, unlike the plush offices we inhabit today; they made you inconspicuous enough to feel a sense of belonging with the world that passed by.
It was with surprise that SN greeted me; I had changed beyond recognition. The last I met him was when my father had passed away. I was just as surprised to see him- he was the picture of health. Apart from his voice which had probably succumbed to years of strain, he looked hale and hearty. Unlike most men his age, he had aged gracefully. He still walked at a pace that I could not keep up with.
Beneath my nonchalant exterior, I am not sure if he managed to read the multitude of emotions that crossed my mind. He was seated comfortably in his chair, his face placid as ever, with a smile that melted one's defenses. I felt very much the child I had been ten years ago, crying in his office, venting out my anger and frustration. Back then, I did not feel the need to shield my vulnerability. I took the liberty to cry and curse. I took the liberty to tell him that if he could not execute his power and protect me, then it was futile being a lawyer. He took it all with a smile. What I remember the most about him was that he gave me understanding; he gave me a space where I could be myself, despite having no obligation to do so. He taught me that battles are not always won in one stroke; there are battles where patience can help us win in more meaningful ways. He taught me that not all battles are worth fighting; sometimes, it is better not to attack unless there is an attack from the opponent.
In those years when I felt lost and there was no father figure in my life, I found his presence comforting. Some of the hardest paths we walk, become the most beautiful in retrospect; our minds change the meaning we attach to them. The people who made these paths bearable, shine through, and we cherish them in ways that we cannot describe. This was the bond I shared with SN. I did not keep in touch with SN. It wasn't because I had forgotten him; it was because I wanted to keep the memory of the affection he had given me. I was afraid that if I lingered, he would not be able to sustain the affection, and it would break my heart. And so, after all these years, when I had spoken to him on the phone, I was surprised to feel the same affection he had given me then. I love it when people and places refuse to change. I love it when they make me feel what I cherished about them in the past.
After our initial pleasantries, SN looked through my papers, and on an impulse, he said to me," Why don't we just get hold of the notary and get the signature today? If you leave these documents here, it might just get delayed. Shall we do that?"
"Sure, would it be okay for you?", I asked, not letting my emotions show on my face. I had really wanted to spend some time with him, rather than rush through the process. But I did not want to intrude into his busy schedule. SN called the notary and we all hopped into the car. I was not acquainted with the notary. So SN made an introduction.
"We are old friends. Vidya grew up outside Kerala, isn't that so? She is a doctor, and now she is also a psychologist. Most importantly, she is an eligible spinster", he remarked.
"You could leave out the last bit, sir", I replied.
"No, child. What I worry is that you may regret your choices. Regret is fine, as long as it sets in while something can still be done about it. When you regret, it shouldn't be too late. You will probably not regret until your mother is around, and until you are healthy. But when you get to my age, you need somebody who cares for you. That is where it gets difficult."
"I will keep that in mind", I replied.
"You are a hard nut to crack, aren't you?", he asked me.
I smiled, hugging this feeling that I had not felt for a long time. It made me realize that my vulnerability is very much alive, but I keep it well concealed. There are very few relationships where I have the luxury of exposing this vulnerability.
The two had many interesting experiences to share, and I joined in, laughing at all their jokes. It was after such a long time that I had the luxury of being a child. Sometimes, I am tired of being mature and responsible all the time.
It was lunchtime, but since we did not want to waste time, we decided to stop at Pilicode farm and grab something that could sustain us for the next couple of hours. I am not sure if it was the people I was with, or the experience of the farm that made the whole experience feel rather special.
On our way back, I got to listen to more of their stories and perspectives. It was hard to tell if some of the stories were real or were fabricated for the purpose of humour. SN had worn a white shirt, and it was rather unfortunate that when he put the seat belt on, the belt left a stain on his shirt. "I am going to send you a legal notice for this", he joked. He had a meeting to attend, and the stain bothered him. He tried wiping it off, but to no effect. When we arrived at the notary's office, he was contemplating washing off the stain with some water. That was when I remembered the sanitizer. "I have a sanitizer in my car. We could try spraying that and see if it will erase the stain", I offered. His face lit up like a child's face. "You can use the sanitizer on my shelf", the notary offered. I found the sanitizer and sprayed it on the stain. It was getting lighter, although it did not completely disappear. "A woman's brain never ceases to marvel in such moments", SN remarked. The frame froze in my mind. Me spraying the sanitizer. A father's distressed face that gave the impression of a 5-year-old who had completely submitted himself to the care of his daughter, trusting her instincts and hands. In that moment, he had forgotten all about the meeting, the tasks that demanded his attention, and the people who awaited him. It was the most ordinary of human interactions, but I will treasure it for a lifetime.
Why is it that some people mean so much to us? Is it because of who we are or who they are? In the people we choose, in our perceptions of them, we can find ourselves. And so, we exist not in our individual lives, but in our relationships with people and with the world. To live, is to form relationships- with people, places, experiences, other creatures, and the universe. It is only in these relationships that we can find ourselves.
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