On the other side of the hill

Most of us spend our lives thinking of climbing newer heights and getting worried about newer challenges. It is almost always an uphill task. We never think about how life will be when the downward journey starts. And thus, when it actually does, most people just move with the flow. Age-related ailments become part of everyday life, meaningful occupancy diminishes and they depend on their kith and kin for companionship and support. Monotonicity sets in and loneliness becomes a habit.

However, there is another view of things. Life can still be beautiful. Grass can still be green, and flowers can blossom, on the other side of the hill. And I realized this when I met Mr Singh and Mrs Kashyap.

Some relations don’t have a name. They can neither be defined nor classified. Such was their relation, and such was the bond we developed with them.

I and my four-year-old accompanied my husband for his business conference. We checked into the same resort where his conference was scheduled. I had planned to spend some time away from my daily chores. On our special request hotel staff gave us a ground floor room. Here the sit-out area extended into small back-lawns. The idea was simple. My daughter could play, while I keep one eye on her and the other on my book, slouched in a garden chair.

It was in these back laws that we first met – for the lack of better words – our new friends.

It was early morning. My daughter was trying to take out her toy from a bush. I was watching this from a distance, feeling too lazy to get up for her help. Then Mr Singh came to her rescue. He was fair, tall, well built, full of life. Pucca Punjabi, as he referred to himself later. Very soon he was playing with my daughter. In between I heard another voice, that of an elderly woman. I assumed her to be his wife. He left when she called him for tea. I also asked my daughter to come inside the room.

After a leisurely breakfast, we decided to stroll around the premises, not wanting to confine ourselves inside four walls. From a distance my daughter saw Mr Singh and rushed towards him, maybe hoping for another play session. I followed her. The lady from morning was also there. Slim and sweet, she was elegance personified. Her shoulder length silken hair were more white than black. A charismatic personality, she must have been considered beautiful by many during her heydays. But I could still call her that.

They both welcomed my daughter with lot of enthusiasm. When I sat down next to them, I had no clue what was about to unfold before me. We were glued to each other for next couple of days. Their persona, their life and their stories were so mesmerizing that I could not stop myself from being with them. More I learnt, more I wanted to know about them. They also openly showed their fondness for both of us. Proximity of our rooms only made it easier and we spent long hours in those back-lawns. My curiosities were at its peak. Their warmth only made it easier for me to ask questions. Comfortable in their skin, they didn't shy away from answering. As Mrs Kashyap later mentioned, "At this stage of life very few things worry us. What will people say or think is certainly not one of them."

They met in the neighborhood senior citizen laughter club, after Mr. Singh moved into a house close to his daughter. He had been staying alone after his wife passed away five years ago. His only daughter had been married for long and was well-settled in a distant city. Since his wife's demise, his daughter had been requesting him to move-in with her. Not wanting to interfere in her family life, he was postponing the decision. Around two years ago they reached an agreement and he took up a place in close vicinity of her house. A regular at morning walks, Mr Singh continued with his routine even in his new residence. Soon he became friendly with a few fellow walkers, who in turn introduced him to this neighborhood laughter club.

Mrs Kashyap on the other hand has been staying alone for many years now. Her kids are settled in foreign lands. Now retired from a high-profile career, she spends her days divided between her books and social service activities. She has been working with this laughter club since its inception. They organize various events for health and well-being of senior citizens.   

Soon after joining the club, Mr Singh became an active member, supporting Mrs Kashyap in organizing various events. Social events led to coffee discussions. Frequent meetings became daily. They had common interests, common ideologies and very similar view on life. "We are a perfect match. She enjoys cooking good food, while I love eating. For both it is always quality above quantity. A single spoon is sufficient if it is made well." Mr Singh brimmed. At an age when most other only seek company, they found someone who was compatible and like-minded. They liked spending time with each other, and nothing prevented them from doing so.

“My grand-kids call Mrs Kashyap my girl-friend.” Mr Singh chuckled. “But I tell them she is my granny-friend.” He laughed out loud. 

"Why do you call her as Mrs Kashyap and not Neelima? She has such a beautiful name." I asked at risk of being nosy. "Well, it started as a matter of habit when we first met. That is how I have always addressed ladies. Something I picked up from my late wife. Now I do it more to tell people that she is not Mrs Singh, but Mrs Kashyap. And that continues to be her identity." He winked with a naughty smile. 

They spend long hours over coffee and books. Together they go for book-launches, seminars and even movies. From silly no-nothings to political debates and socio-cultural discussions, their knowledge is vast, updated and even seems to be ever-expanding. They talk about their past, their spouses, their kids and even grand-kids. Often they relive their memories, laugh at old jokes and cry for painful days. Mrs Singh and Mr Kashyap are often remembered, mentioned and talked about at length. “At our age we are not ashamed of having a past. We are in fact proud of it.” Mrs Kashyap smiled.

At last I couldn’t stop my inquisitiveness. Why were they here? In a different city, away from their families? Staying in separate rooms, but close to each other. What kind of relationship was this?

They looked at each other and smiled. “We were going through some old records in the senior citizen club and realized that it was 2 years since Mr Singh joined the club. Which also meant that it was our second anniversary. And we decided to celebrate it as long as it lasts. When everything else is going down-hill, somethings should keep us up-beat.”