G. Shankar
“Knock…knock…”
A stranger was at the door. She appeared to be battered and needed help. She was not in a position to talk. Dr. Matthew looked at her with sympathy. Maybe she is a patient or someone needing urgent help. He let her enter the house without asking further questions. It was thirty minutes past eight in the evening. He had just closed his clinic and was preparing his dinner. Dr. Mathew was a practicing Oncologist in Chennai. He had earned a reputation for his humanitarian values, providing free treatment to countless patients. He had a well-equipped clinic on the ground floor of his residence, and he lived on the first floor. He was a bachelor.
The lady appeared to be on the wrong side of 70 but quite agile for her age. She quickly gulped a glass of water offered by Matthew. She looked around, and her eyes were glued to some photographs hanging on the wall. She went closer to the wall and examined them. They were Matthew's childhood images. Suddenly, her face brightened. She turned to him. Matthew noticed a streak of joy flash on her face.
“Are you not Matty? My Matty, naughty boy.”
Matthew froze. He was stunned by the familiarity. ‘Yes, I know this voice. I heard it almost every day, some 20 years ago. Yes, I know her… she is Sarala aunty…sure, she is Sarala aunty.’
“You are Sarala aunty, know?” He cried out in delight.
She responded with a gentle nod in agreement. He was overwhelmed with emotions. She was almost like a second mother to him. She, too, had treated him like her son. Ram was her only son. Ram and Matthew were classmates from nursery to the fifth standard.
Matthew was a motherless child. His father, Albert, was a drunkard. They lived in the same village near Coimbatore. As Albert never cared for his son, Sarala doubled as his guardian and mother. She even attended a few parent-teacher meetings to help Matthew.
Matthew spent most of the time with Ram and Sarala. On many nights when Albert was not around, Matthew ate and slept with Ram. Ram loved him so much. He went on telling everyone that Matthew was his big brother. Many thought the boys were siblings.
Contrarily, Albert always got into arguments with Ram’s father on trivial matters. One day after a big fight, Albert went with Matthew, vowing that he would never send his son to their home. After a couple of days, father and son vanished from the village. Their whereabouts were not known. Soon, they were forgotten by everyone in the village. But Sarala and Ram always cherished the beautiful days the three spent together.
“How is Ram aunty?”
“Good,” her reply was in monosyllables.
“What is he doing?”
“Corporate job,” again, she gave a short reply.
“Can I see him now?”
She didn’t reply. She moved toward the kitchen and inspected the preparations for the dinner. The vegetables had already been chopped by Matthew. Without uttering a word, she examined the plastic containers and picked up a few and placed them on the granite slab. Matthew was silently observing her. He wanted to hug her to show his love. But he had a guilty conscience. He had not tried to trace them after he grew up. Tears welled in his eyes.
In the next thirty minutes, his favorite dishes filled their aroma everywhere.
She silently placed a plate on the dining table and started serving.
“Come, Matty. Eat. My dinner is already over.” She pre-empted his likely question. Familiar taste. Matthew ate as if he had been starving for days. She stood next to him, watching him devour everything on his plate. She fondly ran her fingers through his hair, which moved as a gentle breeze.
Matthew suddenly remembered that he had not asked her how she found his home, and where she lived. When he asked the question, she smiled and said, “Show me your clinic.”
For the next twenty minutes, Matthew took her around his clinic, explaining every process in cancer diagnosis and treatment. She silently followed him.
Dr. Mathew motioned for Sarala to sit down. Sarala's gaze fell upon a poster titled, 'Six-Step Process for Radical Self-Healing' by Dr. Lissa Rankin, which outlined steps for self-healing from cancer.
“Is this true?” She pointed to the poster.
“Absolutely,” his reply was firm.
“I should have met you before.” Her voice trailed down.
“Why, aunty? Anything wrong?” Matthew sounded concerned.
As usual, she did not reply. Her eyes held a melancholic stare at the poster again.
She spoke in her soft voice. “Ram is a successful senior executive in a large corporate house in Chennai. But he was always detached from life. He missed you a lot and was always thinking about you. I was worried that he would not survive long after you left us. Uncle died ten years ago. We tried to get some information about you, without success. When I was diagnosed with advanced breast cancer, I started worrying about Ram. I wanted him to get married. He had refused. He came to know about my condition only ten days before. He is heartbroken. Only you can console him and take care of him. I am fortunate that my intense search for you has brought me here. Will you take care of him, your brother?”
Her last words came as a demand. Matthew was rattled to learn about her health condition.
“Aunty, can I examine you?”
“Dear Matty, it is too late now. Just take care of Ram. Only you can do that. Will you do it for me?” She demanded again.
Matthew wept, covering his face.
“Come, Matty. Let us go to Ram.”
During the next forty minutes of the drive, both were silent. Matthew had a strange feeling of excitement. All the way, he was thinking of Ram. He drove on the narrow roads to reach a decent-looking independent house in the outskirts of Chennai.
“Matty, you go inside and surprise Ram. I will get some milk for your favourite filter coffee. I noticed that you had only Bru.”
Matthew was taken aback. Her razor-sharp observation has not changed a bit over the years. A smile crossed his face as he looked in her direction.
Ram collapsed into a nearby sofa when Matthew introduced himself. Ram gave out a loud cry and hugged him. He was inconsolable.
In an attempt to calm him, Matthew sat next to Ram and patted his back. “Ram, I am sorry that I was away from you all these days and did not even try to locate you. I feel like a sinner. The Lord will never forgive me. But for Auntie’s efforts, I would not have met you. I admire her for finding my place in this concrete jungle to bring me here. Still, I am unable to comprehend her resilience and determination.”
Matthew further detailed everything and told Ram to bring her to his clinic the next morning to run detailed tests.
Ram stood there frozen, his heart pounding and eyes wide. He felt as if the ground below his feet had shifted.
“Did she speak so much?” Ram mumbled. Matthew nodded his head.
‘Can the dead come back and speak all this?’ Ram murmured, as if speaking to himself. He slowly moved toward his prayer room and opened the door.
Matthew was staring at a large photo of Sarala aunty with a rose garland.
“She had left me ten days before.” Ram moaned weakly.
Matthew felt it impossible. He whispered, “I found her only to be lost again. She had come only to reunite us.”
The front door creaked. Matthew ran to the front door to find a milk packet neatly placed in the corner. The road was empty.
The night was still and eerie.
*****
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