Prabhakar ji who lives at the far end of my lane in the residential colony is seventy - five years old. His age reflects clearly from his furrowed brow and slow wobbly gait. Unlike many other morning walkers, he goes for a short stroll in the adjacent park much after the sun has already risen when it is quite warm. He invariably carries a stick both for supporting his frail body as well as to scare away the stray dogs which are quite a menace in our area. He often forgets, due to failing memory, his glasses or a hand towel on a bench in the park where he rests for a while after mopping the sweat on his face. I have seen young boys run after him with glee to remind him about his things left back inadvertently. He appears to be a lonely man, hardly talking to anybody. 

Out of curiosity, I wished him one day in the park. He looked at me with clouded eyes, slowly acknowledged my greeting and it was the beginning of our association.

Over the next few days, I learnt that Prabhakar ji is an engineer and has retired as a General Manager from a public sector company. His wife died a couple of years back and his two sons and one daughter are comfortably settled abroad with their families. After the death of his wife, his children tried persuading him to sell his house and relocate with them but Prabhakar ji is vehemently opposed to the idea. He appears contented to live alone which is a mystery to me considering the fact that people generally crave for company and support in their old age. I wonder how he is managing his affairs with poor health.

By and by I started joining Prabhakar ji during his walks and I feel he has started liking my company too though I find him to be mostly reticent. Sometimes he gracefully accepts my invitation and we have a chit-chat over a cup of tea in my house.

On his first visit to my house when my wife turned towards the kitchen to make tea for him, Prabhakar ji requested meekly that he would take it without sugar as he is highly diabetic. When the tea was served he took out a handful of pills from his pocket and gulped them one after another. In response to my enquiring look, he revealed that he suffers from hypertension, thyroid issues, high blood pressure, and an enlarged prostate for which many medicines are to be taken on an empty stomach. Thereafter, he finished his tea peacefully. Before departing he requested me to feed my contact number in his mobile phone. He looked at me sheepishly and informed that he finds it difficult to do the simple task on his own because of the tremors in his hands.

One day Prabhakar ji called me on my phone and invited me for lunch to his house. I was actually dismayed by the invitation because he asked me to come alone though he knew pretty well that my wife and children were with me. I was hesitant because I was not too sure as to what was in store for me knowing that Prabhakar ji lived all alone and I had no prior information about him from other residents and neighbors with whom he hardly interacted. My familiarity with him was just based on our casual conversations during our walks and a few tea sessions at my place that were mostly superficial about mundane topics like weather, his health, politics, and general affairs of the society. Nevertheless, I visualized his imploring face and agreed to go over to his residence to have lunch with him.

Contrary to my apprehension I found Prabhakar ji’s house is well kept and neatly dusted. When I rang the doorbell he received me at the entrance, gave a beaming smile, and promptly took me straight to his well-stocked bar. He conspiratorially asked me with a childish smile which drink I would like to have before having food. I had not expected such a welcome. There were many tempting bottles on the shelves but I told him hesitantly that I would have beer. He waved off my suggestion patronizingly and added humorously that he had much better things to offer. He picked up Chardonnay wine and poured the content liberally into the two glasses neatly arranged on the small table. His new-found dexterity in handling his prized possession was amazing and I noticed particularly that he did not spill even a drop despite his trembling hands; a trait he might have acquired due to regular practice.

Liquor is a good solvent in the sense that it dissolves all inhibitions and formalities. It did not take long for both of us, with two glasses of wine already consumed, to become comfy in that big dimly lit room. Light snacks were served in between by his servant.

I complimented Prabhakar ji about the décor of the house but asked him how he was able to manage such a big house on his own. He informed that the credit for running the house on a daily basis goes to his daughter who is settled in the US with her husband. Somehow, it did not make sense to me and he read my face. He explained that his daughter instructs his servant daily about the minutest details pertaining to house maintenance. There are video cameras placed in each room, even in the kitchen, through which she can watch her father’s needs that are then promptly attended to. Even the menu for breakfast, lunch, and dinner are fixed daily by her considering his health issues.

With the wine glass in my hand, I squirmed with guilt on the sofa and looked around for the video camera that could be relaying our drinking session to Prabhakar Ji’s daughter in real time. Seeing my uneasiness, he guffawed, “Don’t worry. I have ensured that the camera in this bar remains permanently non-functional. You know, I have to pay extra money to my servant to ignore my daughter’s command to rectify the ‘defect’ of the camera in this room.” I was amused by my host’s antics.

After we had leisurely finished our drinks we moved to the dining room where a lavish spread was seen on the table; proof of the meticulous planning by Prabhakr ji’s daughter sitting thousands of kilometers away. While he nibbled at the few bland items served by the servant, he pampered me with a variety of curries, naan, biriyani, fruit salad, and desserts. I was overwhelmed when he informed me that he followed the frugal diet prescribed by his doctor but special preparations were made just for me. I smiled at him appreciatively and happily agreed to the second helping of the delicious kheer.

It was definitely a hearty meal. I got up and washed my hands while the servant brought a hand towel and stood behind me. I wiped my hands and I was thinking of making my exit after thanking Prabhakar ji for the sumptuous lunch when he caught my elbow and guided me to the drawing room saying that he would need another five minutes for an important task.

After seating me in the drawing room Prabhakar ji vanished behind a door, making me wonder about the task he had in his mind. I heard a steel cupboard opening and shutting in the adjacent living room. After a few moments, he returned to me with three envelopes in his hands and sat beside me.

“You know that I do not keep good health and I am resigned to the fact that I am in my last leg of life. Though my children keep on insisting that I should move to their place, I have declined to do so as I value my freedom and I do not wish to burden them with my responsibilities. I find a very compassionate companion in you therefore I am taking the liberty of making a bold request to you.” With these words, Prabhakar ji handed me the three envelopes.

“The first two envelopes have Rupees ten thousand each. The third envelope has a list of doctors whom I consult regularly for my ailments. The third envelope also has a list of taxi drivers whom I call frequently for taking me to hospitals, markets, and for other visits. They know the location of this house pretty well. If, someday, I fall so sick that I cannot fend for myself, I request you to use this money and the information to help me in my distress. It could also be the day when I kick the bucket.”

Prabhakar ji’s instructions were quite crisp as if he had rehearsed them in his mind many times. I was taken aback by the sudden change of the mood- from a bonhomie drinking session and a cozy lunch to a somber reality of life. In my confusion, I mumbled something about not needing the money in order to help him but he pressed the envelopes in my unwilling hands, asking me not to refuse.

I slipped out of Prabhakar ji’s house as he waved me off with an unusual gaiety. As I walked back home I realized that after leaving his dining table I had been served the last unintended flavor of the lunch: poignancy. Simultaneously, it struck me that the usually forgetful Prabhakar ji, like a professional manager that he had been in his career, had not forgotten to plan his last journey sans his children.

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