GIFT OF DOROTHY AND SOLITAIRE-MY SHORT STORIES

A GIFT FROM DOROTHY
Ravi Upadhye



It was a cold winter evening in Canada. By Sunset, temperature dipped to subzero. To make matters worse it had started snowing. In an alien country, with nowhere to go, to pass evenings was always an ordeal. After all how often can you hire a cab and go around a small town like Midlands?

The entire small population seemed to have retired in their cozy homes, probably relaxing next to the fireplace with their near and dear ones. All I could see from my hotel room was the spread out homes with their tiny lights sparkling inside the rooms with hardly a sign of movement. Life seemed to have come to a standstill.

At last exasperated with sheer monotony, I moved out of my hotel room, wandered listlessly in the lobby and at last entered into the only curio shop.

As soon as I pushed the door, a chime rang sonorously announcing my arrival. I was welcomed with a warm and polite greeting by a distinguished looking elderly lady, pouring over some book behind the counter under the light coming from a table lamp. With a mop of snow-white hair, wrinkled face, warm eyes behind her spectacles and a slightly stooping gait she looked very graceful. Her face was serene and her eyes glowed with kindness. She must have been in her seventies or early eighties. Upon declining a courteous “May I help you, son?” by “Just browsing, thank you ma'm”, I set myself upon browsing through a large collection of old books on the shelf. Most of the books were leather bound, well preserved and in spite of being quite old they were in excellent condition. The collector must have been a connoisseur. A tasteful collection indeed! My obvious admiration for the cultured taste of the collector probably could be easily seen on my face. This pleasant surprise did not go unnoticed.
I found a leather bound volume of Reader’s Digest condensed edition of Paul Gallico’s collected works - of particular interest to me. It was a rare finding and I kept the book aside. Seeing me do this, the lady rose and started talking and also recommending various other books from the collection. Her explanation about the books, the authors spoke volumes about her taste and immense knowledge. My repeated attempts to enquire about the price of the book of my particular interest were getting ignored, probably inadvertently. She proceeded with great gusto and enthusiasm and took me around the shop; showed me fascinating potpourri, creations of by local artisans, World War medals and memorabilia, dolls and even offered me home made maple syrup, all integral parts of any small town curio shops.

Patiently nodding my head with approval, overwhelmed by her enthusiasm, sense of beauty, patriotism and last but not the least her old world charm and graciousness, I continued to try to persist with my query about the price of the chosen Paul Galico book.

At last I was successful. She responded by quoting an affordable price. I was very happy.
But then, all of a sudden her enthusiasm seemed to have waned. She looked tired. With heavy steps and a pronounced stoop she came back to the cash counter. For the last time, she wiped the book clean, probably caressed it, put it in an envelope, accepted the money, and murmured her gratitude before bidding me good night. I was not sure if I saw a tear or two in her tired and worn eyes. I came out from the shop very happy for having spent a fruitful two hours and having bought a book long cherished by me. I returned to the room and slept.

Next evening I wanted to go to the shop again. I was disappointed. The sign on the shop said
“We are closed today. Regret inconvenience – Dorothy Roosevelt”

I went to the room planning to spend a pleasant evening in the company of my favourite Paul Galico bought the previous day. I opened the book and on the front page it simply read
“To my darling wife Dorothy, on our fiftieth anniversary, a tribute to our poetic fifty years of marriage –
- Graham Roosevelt”


Solitaire
Ravi Upadhye-

People do not readily venture out on a rainy day-least of all, the elderly. I guess it was such a day but I could still see the familiar yet the odd couple. They were, apparently in their late seventies. They had ventured out on that bitter cold December noon of Delhi. They walked into Pizza Hut. The man was draped in his well worn yet somewhat old suit .A bowler hat adored his bald pate and a rose graced his lapel. The lady wore a graceful chiffon sari and a white pearl necklace. Wrinkles were a mainstay of her face. However carefully concealed thro a makeup, the age and the worries accompanying it could not be concealed.
At the usual time –12 noon to be precise-on many days, I had seen them emerge from an old Morris minor car in front of PVR complex in the posh Vasant Vihar area of New Delhi. The man would hold the door for the lady, more out of affection and care than probably etiquette. The lady would then gather her walking stick, the man his umbrella. Having dropped them, the car would be driven away by the driver to the parking lot. The couple would then slowly walk towards Pizza Hut and seat themselves at the delivery counter. They would not place any order for a long time. They would just sit and watch the hustle and bustle of the place, watch young boys and girls come and go; watch mothers pick up the children straight from the school and at times
come straight to Pizza Hut, feed the hungry siblings and go away. At times I could see them close their eyes and enjoy the smell of fresh pizzas and spices wafting away from the kitchen. An odd acquaintance would give them a passing nod and a greeting that they would rarely notice. The delivery boys too did not mind. They were probably the only ones who knew them, saw them everyday at midday. The entire scene used to puzzle me while watching from a distance. What were they doing there? Why aren’t they at home? Especially on a bitterly cold day like that, they deserved to by the fireplace enjoying a hot bowl of soup and a piping, steaming lunch. Of course, how would I ever find answers to these questions?

It was one of such days.However,on this particular day I harbored a strong desire and resolve to find out why the couple came to Pizza Hut every day. I too entered the restaurant and approached the delivery counter. There they were; seated on the bench and observing the passing world. They were lost in their reverie. I was lost in watching them. They were looking at the delivery boys, waiters and waitresses, watching at the customers, children, mothers, young boys and girls and whisper to each other in a hushed tone. This had gone on for little over an hour when I saw a young lad emerge from the kitchen. He was tall, handsome, well built, with curly mop of hair, very kind eyes and a very warm smile. They seemed to be expecting each other. I saw him rushing to the old couple and he, in true Indian style, touch their feet, hug the old lady and embrace the old man. The trio’s eyes glistened with immense happiness. Even though standing at a distance I could sense the warmth of the relationship. It was as if life had returned to their otherwise pale and tired existence. After this brief encounter, the young lad vanished for a brief while into the kitchen and returned to the delivery counter. He had changed from his uniform into jeans and a white shirt-his normal dress. Having exchanged a few words, the couple started walking back to their car. Her hand over her husband’s arm, with a stooping gait, I saw the couple fading away at a distance. They were so lonely walking towards the parking lot and soon after, being driven away.

“Excuse me, young man! May I have a word with you?” I was addressing the man who had given the bag to the old couple. A bit startled, he turned around and with a bit of suspicion but with a studied look and groomed politeness he responded to me “ I am off duty Sir, you may place the order with my colleague.”
“Oh, no no, young man, may I just have a word with you?”
“I need to return ,I need to go to my computer classes” He responded
“But anyways, what is it about and how may I help you?” He proceeded with his reply in a matter of fact way.
“I just want to know more about the old couple. I know you may wonder why? I have no logical reason to explain but it’s not just that I am curious. I feel some kind of sympathy for them. I am a social worker and I study faces .I found them to be lonely. They look so graceful but so sad. They look lonely too. I wonder why? Especially in this inclement weather, they should be at home, in the coziness of warmth of near and dear ones I thought if I know more about them, may be I could bring some joy into their lives.”
For no apparent and logical reason, the young man believed my words and started speaking

“About a year ago, I too met them in similar circumstances. It was a rainy day when they walked into the restaurant and like today, sat at the counter. After seeing them seated for a long period, I politely enquired if they wished to place an order. They declined .I really did not have the courage to offend them by suggesting to them to leave the restaurant. I just engaged in a polite conversation. They have their only son studying in the United States for the last six years. They had just returned from the States having met their son last year. They were very sad to return and appeared to be distraught over the separation from their son. To them, the day never seemed to end. Each passing day brought them closer and closer to a big hollow of grief and boredom. The only thing that kept them going was the fond hope that he would return soon and they would be happy again.. Days passed on listlessly. It was the same routine day after day-dreaming and painting the imagery of their reunion with their son on their worn out mental canvas. They used to receive scant communication; sometimes letters, sometimes birthday greetings, and scattered phone calls. The letters would tactfully avoid the mention of any plans of his return. Days turned into months and then years.
And then, sometime last year Dad-he had by now started calling the old man Dad- had a fall and had a concussion on his head. He almost lost his memory. The fading years were taking toll of Mom. Around that time, I started seeing them very regularly. The wafting aroma of freshly baked pizzas and garlic breads seemed to bring a strange kind of joy on their face-the joy of familiarity. There was some connection between those smells and the joyous expressions on their face.
And then, one day I came to know the reason.
They would fondly remember that their son too worked in Pizza Hut as a part time waiter in the States. Pizza Hut brought back all their fond memories. It meant a world to them.
Much as nature would do it, day after day, especially after Dad’s accident the accident, Daddy lost his memory rapidly and for no obvious reason except the weariness and boredom with life Mom too lost hers. They can hardly remember the day-to-day chores, leave alone their past-except of course their son, albeit sketchily. However, for some inexplicable reason, their visits to our restaurant continued almost in a clocklike fashion.
The boys here too are used to their presence. In fact, only last week we celebrated their anniversary here. It was such a joy to all of us. They do not have a family and a home you see. They live in an Old Age Home.”
“But tell me, how is it that you and only you only are so close to them? They seem to be so fond of you” I persisted.

“Yes sir” He replied. “I am indeed very close to them. They have started believing that their son is back- that’s me–or may be they are back in the States-with him. To them, I look so much like their son. The Pizza Hut décor is so familiar and yet deceptive. They look alike all over the world. It’s a make believe world.”
And then, all of a sudden with an obvious lump in his throat and tears swelling in his eyes, he said
“ But then, I too do not mind. My divorced parents too are in the States and they have no plans to return .I too do not have a home. However much I long for my parents, they will not return”
With this he abruptly left me. His fading silhouette in the fading early winter Sunlight appeared as lonely as the old couple. I wiped an unexpected tear in my eyes as I walked out of the restaurant.