Flowers

A short story penned by me……Life is too short for regrets!

She was late for her walk that evening. The regular joggers were already on their way back home. A few of them smiled as she hurried past them in the opposite direction. The park was almost empty with children packing up for the day. The little chubby boy who was always fussy about his games seemed to have resigned himself to his fate, grumpy as his mother was putting on his shoes.

Nisha drew her jacket closer, the evening was getting chilly, dusk was setting in. She was in two minds whether to turn back or go ahead. Yes, No, yes, no, yess!!She finally decided to go ahead, after all, she was doing this for years in the neighbourhood. She pulled out her cell phone as it rang, but before she could answer her sister, it went off! The battery was low. She hurried, took faster steps and looked around for familiar faces. The old man had finished reading his newspaper. He was tucking it away, as the light was fading, yet, he was not making an attempt to leave, still remained seated on his favourite bench, savouring the colours of the evening sky. He saw her jog along and gave her a half quizzical look. She smiled back and kept going.

It was getting dark, as winter had set in. She should stick to her regular schedule from tomorrow, she mused.As she reached the last bend on her way back, a shadow jumped out of one of the bushes in front of her. She stopped in her tracks. There was no sound or movement, she felt someone standing there, waiting for her next move. She halted, unable to decide if she wanted to turn back and do the entire round, going all the way back into the darkness or just keep moving on! She walked a few steps, hesitated, stopped.Nothing moved, nobody was there, no shadow, she took two steps and felt a slight movement in the shrubs beside her. She decided to resume her jog and started running faster. The movement in the shrubs beside her, kept pace, running along in the darkness. The park was deserted. There was no one in the vicinity. As she kept running, she sighted the familiar figure of the old man walking at a long distance coming in her direction. She slowed down a moment in relief on sighting him. At the opportune moment the figure jumped out, pounced on her and attacked her, he had a knife in his had, had covered his face with a dark mask, was dressed in a black jogging suit. She hit him with her fists, kicked and let out a shirll shriek. He was overpowering her, knowing very well that she couldn’t fight back.
“Give me your wallet and your phone and I will let you go” he hissed. She continued to struggle and was mildly surprised when he let go his grip and fell backwards. Her numbed senses could not comprehend what had happened. Apparently, the old man had given him one whack on his head with his walking stick, catching the guy off guard. Without even turning around to see who it was, the monster jumped off the bushes and escaped in a jiffy in the darkness before they could even gather their senses to call out for more help.
She was so relieved, upset and thankful all at the same time. She just held the old man’s hand and cried. Words had deserted her. “Thank you Sir, I really don’t know what to say. Im so overwhelmed at your courage.”
“Don’t even mention it dear” he replied in a feeble voice “I saw you setting out late and decided to hand around till you returned, somehow an intuition was telling me that something may go wrong. I started walking backwards and heard your scream. I did nothing my dear. It was the will of God, that I should stay around and do what best I could. Now, will you walk me to the main gate? My dinner must be getting cold and you need to hurry back home”

She held his hand, picked up his walking stick and as they walked past his favourite bench, she stopped and gave him a warm hug.”Thank you Uncle, you saved my life. How can I ever repay you?”
“With a smile” he said. They reached the main gate. “Goodnight my dear and do take care. Will see you around tomorrow much before it gets dark”
“Goodnight Uncle” she waited till he crossed the road, then took the busy road to get home, suddenly feeling lost and lonely in the crowded street. She felt so foolish. In the melee, she had not even asked the Samaritan his name or address. Well, she would have a long chat with him tomorrow. She tied her hair back, brushed her suit and reached home, deciding not to mention the incident to anyone.

The next day, she was a half hour early, having left office at 4. She sat on the old man’s bench and waited. It was 5, no sign of him, nearing 6, still nothing. She decided to leave when the light was bright yet.
The same ritual continued for one whole week. She started feeling uneasy. Was he unwell? Had he left town. Had his folks stopped him from going on his evening walks because he was late that evening or had he hurt himself in the scuffle? No answers. Just questions which bothered her. She did not even know his name or where he lived After a fortnight, he still did not turn up. She asked two of the familiar people she had seen around the park, about him. They feigned ignorance too and directed her to a young girl in her mid twenties, another regular, who was playing with two small kids. Nisha pointed to the bench and asked the girl if she knew the old man’s whereabouts. The girl gave her a sad wistful smile.
“I don’t know details Maam but I did hear from a senior citizen who comes in for walks, twice a week, who was his companion at times, that the old man suffered a massive cardiac arrest and passed away around 12 days ago. He had suffered from extreme fatigue a couple of days before that. I was curious because he always had a word for me and shared his fruits with my kids. He was a silent, dignified man, a loner most of the time but did have a warm smile and a kind wordthat touched many hearts”.
“Thanks, thanks so much for the information” replied Nisha and started walking towards the bench. She sat down there and wept. Tears of regret, tears of sorrow at the stranger who had saved her life and was gone, leaving behind no trace of his greatness, except a warmth and nostalgia in her heart loaded with sorrows of regret.

The next evening, the girl with the kids walked past the bench to find a bunch of flowers with a small beautiful card, hand written with the message.

“I could not do this when you were here. I hope my love reaches you in heaven. You have touched my life in a way that is difficult for me to express. I miss you, Uncle”

She stopped her children from picking up the flowers. They had reached where they should. She knew in the corner of her heart that they were from the girl who had asked about Uncle’s whereabouts yesterday..............

Some people do touch our lives in a profound way. Not all relationships can be given names. They are just there. It is left to each one of us to reach out, or wait until it is too late.