Little Things

The old man stood at the dock, cutting a solitary figure amidst the ruins of the ancient port that once was the only portal that connected his village with the world outside. Since then many new ports have sprung up and the river that flowed by the village was frequented by several merchant ships, especially during the seasons when the water was high and the weather clear. Clad in a cotton vest and using his oar for support, the old man looked dreamily at the buoyant waters of the ageless river which ebbed to the invisible tunes of the winds and danced feverishly having sensed the impending monsoons. Taking in the patience of the old trees, the freedom of the chirping birds and the mystery of the river in one long breath of the refreshing air the enveloped the river bank, he proceeded toward his rusty boat to find a family of three seeking his service.

“Sir, could you take us to the village on the other side?  My son has been sick for weeks now and I hear that the healer there is the only one who can help”, the man said with a pleading voice made soft by concern. The old man nodded solemnly and ushered the sick child and his parent into his visually dilapidated boat and forced it into the open waters with a strong push at the muddy river bank with his sturdy oar.  The journey wasn't going to be a short one but with the river aiding the course it needed minimal effort from the old man to keep true to his direction. Once the boat steadied and the waters deepened, the old man sat down at the far end of the boat and occasionally broke the surface of the water with casual and non-exertive strokes.  About five minutes into the journey, the old man turned his dull gaze away from the transient froth and looked up at his passengers – the little kid was fast asleep on the lap of his mother who bore a pensive look while his father was looking at the receding river bank with a curious eye. The father was the first to break the silence “Are those river oaks or swamp oaks?”, he asked pointing at the tall trees that bordered the river. The old man shook his head and continued, “ I wouldn't be able to tell. I am new to this place.”  Evidently his knowledge about trees weren't as deep as the wrinkles on his face.

Halfway into the journey, the child woke up with a yawn that seemed to last forever and snuggled deep into his mother’s warmth. His tired and weak eyes remained half open and traced the   motion of the turbulent water that laced the involuntary motion of the old man’s oar.  With an impatient countenance he looked at his mother whose attention he gained with a sharp tug at her flowing garment. Understanding the silent words of her son, the mother asked, “How much longer?” The old man, who was now trying to make up for a sleepless night, stirred and muttered an incoherently reply. Realizing that she didn't catch his words, he cleared his throat and repeated, “No more than twenty minutes with the river on our side.” The answer did not seem to satisfy the worrying mother but then again no answer can ever do justice to a mother’s concern. There are times in every man’s life when simply things evoke emotions and actions alien to one’s age and nature and for the old man this was the moment.  With a toothless smile at the little kid the old man got up, gripped his oar more firmly than before, and began rowing with renewed intent. He completed the journey in the next twelve minutes.

“Thank you for the ride. How much need I pay?”, asked the father as he helped his wife and son get off the boat and onto the slippery river bank.  The old man stole a quick glance at the sick child nestled in his mother’s arm and with an enlightened expression said, “ I do not have a grandson but if I did he would look like him” as he pointed to the child. “Pay me with the news of his improved health.” Then with yet another strong push he heaved his boat back into the water and started rowing. This time the current was against him but that was not what the old man felt.

-Aniruddha Dey

             4th Year Student Of
             The Department of Metallurgical and Materials Engg.