Madhu

The old man, somewhat groggy woke up. He picked up his bifocals from the table beside him and pottered over to the kitchen to put the water on for morning chai.

“Madhu, it’s time to wake up!” he called out as he passed her room.

He had a specific system for making tea. He would first heat a little water and pour it into two cups, one for himself and one for Madhu. He would then heat up a little more, to brew the tea with.  Once the water had boiled, into it would go a little pinch of ginger, just a pinch mind you. His mother had told him it imparted more taste to the tea and to be honest it helped with his sinuses. The next thing he would do is measure out 3 spoonfuls of tea and put them into the flavoured water. This mixture would simmer for about 3 minutes. Then it would be strained into the cups, ready to drink. Madhu always said his adrak waali chai was the best.

*****

The old man had seen Madhu off at the bus stop and gone for his morning walk. He would spend about 3 hours on his own, while Madhu spent the same time learning. He knew the sound her bus made when it braked, and so would know when to expect her back. Usually she would be back around 12. The old man spent this time immersed in a spy thriller, or doing the crossword puzzles in the paper.

Madhu’s favourite snack was idli-dosa, which the old man went to get around 11.30. There was a little South Indian restaurant just around the corner of the house. In spite of the rising vegetable prices, especially the onions, this restaurant was still affordable and more importantly, knew the old man very well. He would order the food and then while he waited have a tumbler of their special filter coffee. He liked to watch the waiter cool the coffee, by first pouring it into one tumbler then back into the original. It was a precise series of movements, ensuring that the coffee was frothy and also cool enough to drink.

*****

“Your father has made very little progress, Mr. Saxena”, said the doctor. “He is clearly still in shock from what happened”.

“I know doctor. It is truly a tragedy. Is it the same thing? He gets to that point in his story of that afternoon and then just stops?”

“Yes sir. We have tried him on lithium as well as a mind amount of lorezapam. But there is no response. He just doesn’t seem to be able to accept what happened.”

*****

That day was different. It started off as normal. The old man woke Madhu up and they had his adrak waali chai. He then put her on the bus. He spent the next three hours doing the crosswords, and then went to get the idli-dosa for Madhu.

When he got back, he heard the phone ringing.

“Is this the Saxena residence?”, said a voice

“Yes”, replied the old man.

“Sir, I am calling from North Wing Police Station. We need you to come here urgently. There has been an accident and we require someone to identify a body.”

They told the old man that Madhu had fallen from the bus as it picked up speed on the way out of the school. They said that she had a cranial fracture that caused a haemorrhage.

The old man just thought about the packet of idli-dosa on the kitchen table. He hadn’t said bye to Madhu when she got on the bus today.

*****

“Mr. Saxena, I am afraid your father’s response is still poor. His mind is constantly replaying that day. When he gets to the end of the story, he just repeats the same line- I did not say goodbye.”

Inspired from the Poets of the Fall song “Late Goodbye”

The Bilge Master