The Lost Footsteps

The Lost Footsteps

“Get up,its 5:30 a.m. Or we'll get late for the walk”, everyday my morning used to start by these words falling on my ears.My grandfather used to call me and wake me up.He used to keep shouting my name until I got off the bed.I was 14 and there was hardly any day when he used to relieve me from the morning walk and he made sure that I brush my teeth and wear my sports shoes before leaving the house.(even if I am half asleep on my way to the park).

Now everytime, the moment we used to step out of the house, my first view was a person collecting bits of garbage,trash of rotten material thrown by nearby people and junk and putting them inside his huge bag that he used to carry on his back.The old man had a fringe of grey-white hair around his balding, mottled scalp. He had a wizened face and a back slightly hunched. With each movement there was the creak of old bones.He had the resigned look of one who knows that at his age life has stopped giving and only takes away.He was very aged, feeble and had a very loose skin.He could hardly move.He wore torn clothes and was very thin.He carried a very shabby look.But whenever I used to look at his eyes, it always had many untold stories in it.Yes!! His eyes said something.A story that he wanted to tell, but it was still untold.He would be approx 70.But he used to be there at 6:00 p.m. regularly without failure.There was not even a single day when it was hard to find him.

He gave a gracious smile which expressed his delight when he used to see us daily and when we used to come back from the park my grandfather bought him a cup of tea and a packet of buiscuits and give it to him.His eyes used to light up with pleasure the moment he got it.And he used to sit on the nearby bench regularly and have them.And this was a routine which was being followed for almost three years now until a change happened.It was already a week now that we could'nt find him.My grandfather desperately waited to have his sight but he was nowhere to be found.The bench where he used to sit was also empty as if it had also been waiting for him to witness his footsteps.After ten days, out of desperation my grandfather asked the guard of the nearby house about him and what we heard was truely unexpected.

The old man was sent to an old age home by his son and her daughter in law after few months of demise of his wife.But he could'nt stay there for long.So, every morning he used to visit streets and collect the garbage and bits of trash and used to sell them to earn a meal for himself but he always had a hope that some day his son would come back and take him along,but it did'nt happen and he passed away a week before.My grandfather's heart dwelled in grief and sadness.He listened to all the hardships that the old man had suffered throughout his life.Then he looked at the bench that still had this hope to see his regular visitor , who would come and sit on it and the path that he regularly crossed had “HIS LOST FOOTSTEPS”.

His life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room. He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by the midafternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else.But yes, He was gone.

Author's Note

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