The Old Man's Diary

The Old Man’s Diary

I curse myself; especially before the mirror while searching and wailing for a man who never played with someone’s trust. My injured conscience sometimes gives me sleepless nights. However I get coaxed by realizing the fact that breaking the promise offered me the SECRETS OF SKY, albeit I keep the second promise. I stay away from the old man. Although it hurts that he never looked again at the sky?

My name is Irfan. The story began with a trip to Jaipur (India). I was there to attend a business meeting. The first day was hectic. From the meeting hall, I headed straight to the hotel for some rest. Once relaxed, felt an urge for a cup of coffee. It was late night; most of the market was closed. The traffic had slowed. The whole place had turned silent. I preferred a lone walk on deserted streets toward a coffee shop, I had spotted earlier. The night was pleasantly breezing and refreshing. I choose a table on roadside. The moon was shining, a thin layer of cloud floated over it. The moon under the cloud resembled a woman who hid her beauty, simultaneously intended to reveal some of it. The cloud, on the other hand, represented the mist of a fragrance stick, turning into ashes before an idol or on a grave. The moving cloud made the moon visible, sometimes obscure. Meanwhile, a light wind cleared the dust on the road. Some leaves moved by it made a scratching sound. I looked at the road. There was a huge tree across it. The old man was seated underneath. He rested his back against the trunk; his legs were sprawled out. He held something in arms crossed over abdomen. It looked peculiar because an elegant man had occupied a beggars spot. He looked up at the sky several times and murmured something. I could see a thirst in his eyes. He was searching for something, something lost in the mist of sky. I finished my cup and went to the cash counter.

‘Are you from Kashmir?’ asked the man at the counter.

Kashmiris are recognized easily all over India. Their miseries are overlooked easily, too.

I nodded.

‘He isn’t mad.

‘Ok.’

I was supposed to get up early morning. So I left without discussing the old man and his strange whispering with the sky, though the man at counter wanted to. The truth is that the old man’s behavior brewed some curiosity.

The next day was more tiring. Due to exertion I instantly fell asleep after the dinner. It was perhaps the middle of the night when I heard someone screaming from distances. My sleep broke. It was the old man, venting his anger at the sky. He said something very strange in a whining manner.

‘I’ll never see you again.’

‘Who was he talking to, who was in the sky?’

This was no less than a mystery, a very interesting mystery indeed.

He then left. A few men gathered. They all looked surprised.

***

The next day was the last day of the meeting. After fag out, I booked a cab to Delhi for an overnight journey as my flight was scheduled from Delhi to Srinagar next morning. I was about to board when the coffee shop owner waved at me. I went up to him. He offered me a coffee.

‘Coffee at this moment, no.’

I refuted with a thanks.

‘You don’t need to pay for it.’

I enquired about the reason for the hospitality.

‘The old man is from Kashmir. He and my late father were good friends. He helped us through tough times. For the last 30 years or so, every winter he comes for a week or more. At night he sits under the tree for hour. Why, nobody knows? I never saw him getting angry, except last night. Perhaps something went over limits. He threw away the pouch that he has always carried. May I ask you to return him the pouch? It would make my father feel happy.’

I was informed that the Old Man had left last night.

He placed the pouch on the table along with old man’s address.

‘On one condition’, I said, ‘you will have to accept money for the coffee; else It will look like a business deal instead of an exchange of emotions.’

‘I agree, but promise to be my guest when you come next time. Besides I must tell you that even my father wasn’t granted access to this pouch. I believe that you will not distort its sanctity.

‘You can trust me.’

I reached Delhi airport early morning. Some technical reasons delayed the flight. I thought to listen to some music. I looked for headphones in bag when my eyes fell on the pouch. The old man’s words echoed.

‘I’ll never see you again.’

Over that the coffee shop owner’s claim that his father couldn’t get access fermented suspense.

‘It‘s obvious that the old man did not come to Jaipur to sit under the tree. What has he been coming for decades then? Why did he shout at the sky? Why did he throw away the pouch that he cared for? The pouch must be the answer to all of the questions.’

I had never been dishonest, that is why it took me long. The pouch carried nothing except a diary. The year written on its cover page elevated curiosity. It was 1987, an old time.

‘So it’s a tale of 80’s. Opening the pouch is a greater sin than reading the diary’, I said to myself when opened the first page.

***

“She stood before me. I dared to look into her eyes and let my heart sink. She smiled. This triggered a light cyclone on her cheeks. People call it dimple. Her sight made me lose myself. A few hair strands bundled together, shaped like swords, as if guarded the treasure of beauty. She looked at me with eyes opened wide then slowly lowered her gaze. Perhaps she realized that I have made up mind to speak my heart. I advanced towards her but lightning and thunder distracted me. I opened eyes, found myself out in the lawn. The sky was thundering. I despaired because even in my dreams, I could not tell her what has been growing in my heart over years.

Every winter for the past five years, I have been visiting Jaipur to sell Kashmiri handicraft. My landlord has two children, a son and a daughter. I liked his daughter since I saw her. I cherish her presence. Perhaps she likes my company too. In the past four years, I have never bothered to express my feelings to her nor tried to enquire about hers, because all these years have passed joyfully. Good times often make us complacent that is why we forget to look ahead. Few days ago I heard that the idea of marriage has struck her parents. This made me restless and I decided to disclose everything to her, hoping that it would also be an opportunity to understand her feelings. However, a telegram regarding my father’s health left me with no choice. I had to rush back home. It has been more than a week now. The only good thing happened is that my father shown some improvement.

Tonight I couldn’t sleep again. The moment I closed eyes, I saw her. So I decided to move into the lawn, where my dream was just ruined by a thunder. Out of sentiments, I looked at the sky. It was clear, with some lightening on the horizon. The moon shone at her youth. This was a heart throbbing atmosphere but for a man like me, away from beloved, even such an adorable vista was a ruin.

‘You’re a wonder of the world; you shine even when the sun fades. You live in the sky and peep into the every corner of the earth. You can see everyone. I’m sure you must be watching her too’, I said to the moon.

‘You’re right I can see everyone’, an affectionate voice echoed.

I looked around. There was no one. I surprised. I felt a doubtful. My ears were perhaps in fancy.

‘Look upward, I’m here’, another voice came.

I looked up. I couldn’t believe. It was moon, speaking.

‘Unbelievable. You speak. ’

The moon revealed that she does speak but not to everyone. I expressed my gratitude, also enquired about the reason for choosing me. The moon did not respond. I saw a star and a thin-layered cloud moving slowly beside her. I repeated my question but she ignored. After few minutes of silence, I began doubting my eyes and ears again. I waited for some more time till got convince that it was an illusion or hallucination. I took few steps towards house, moon spoke again.

‘I thought it wasn’t real.’

‘Actually I’m not allowed to speak without permission, but breaking the rules at times makes you feel that you really exist. You saw a star along with a cloud roaming around. They were the guard, that’s why I remained still. Now they’re gone, we can chat?’

‘You asked me why I choose you, honestly I don’t know. But may I know why you are awake?’

‘Sleeping is a big challenge these days.’

‘I know the reason.’

The moon disclosed that she heard me saying that she must be watching my beloved too. To steer her away from my story, I asked her about the role of the guards.

‘I thought we would talk about her. Ok, your choice. Let me tell you that if I’m caught my voice could be snatched. Yet I take the risk.’

Moon wanted to know about her but I was reluctant.

‘I have been watching you for hours. If you express candidly I may render a help.’

This ignited hopes. So I disclose everything, also expressed my concerns like passing my message to her and knowing her answer.

The moon assured to deliver my message and get her reply too.

I felt the bliss that a bud may observe on arrival of spring.

‘Can you really do that?’ I said with utter hope.

The moon smiled, said yes. She became still. I understood that the moon turned to her. I stood up, rambled anxiously, sometimes rubbed my palms, sometimes my temples. The apprehensions grew high. Every second became hard to wait.

Moments later the moon returned.

‘What did she say?’ I asked instantly.

‘She has long, silky hair that flew with the winds and a beautiful smile enough to win hearts.’ ‘Hold on, hold on’, I interrupted. ‘I know this, even more. Tell me about her reply then we can talk at length’.

‘People love to listen about their beloved. Anyway, that area is cloudy. She couldn’t see me. Let’s pray that sky remains clear tomorrow.’

The moon bid me good night. In worriment I went back to my room, rest of the night and the following day passed by counting every minute. I wanted to ask the sun to be less punctual, set earlier. The wait was longer than history till darkness overlapped the sky. Finally moon appeared. She was still.

‘Moon will not speak if guards are around.’

I looked for the moving star and the cloud. They were not in sight. The wait prolonged. I felt dizziness. I spontaneously rested my back against a wall, stretched my legs, and gazed at the moon. I was nearly unconscious when moon spoke. It was a voice of hope.

‘I met her.’

I immediately asked for her reply. The moon glared. I realized that I should demonstrate false patience.

‘The sky was clear but she was accompanied by her parents, so I took my time.’

‘I would listen every detail but after her final message’, I did not say but thought.

‘When she entered in her room, I took the opportunity to speak. She first frightened then I convinced her that I can talk. You know, she then enjoyed the conversation.’

The moon had made up mind to test my patience. I knew too that my choice was limited.

‘I dragged the conversation out to set the right atmosphere.’

‘For God’s sake, get to the point’, I shouted but inwardly.

‘When I felt that the time was right to deliver your message, I did. She stood quite but I insisted for the reply.’

I lost my patience when I heard about the reply; I had been craving for years.

‘Then what did she say?’ I shouted out.

At that very moment, many stars and a thick layer of black cloud gulped the moon. They were the guards.

‘Please leave her! Let me listen to the final message. Please, please.’ I cried out.

There was a horrible thunder; thick black clouds covered the whole sky. I felt as if the sky was coming closer to the ground. Afterward, there was complete darkness and silence. I realized that the stars decided to stand against my fate.

Tonight, I am seated under the same wall, looking at the moon. She is also looking at me. We both have dampened eyes and we are both silent.”

February 27, 1987 was the date written at the bottom of the last page. I was stunned. My eyes had dampened too like the old man and the moon. I could not take away my gaze from the diary.

***

‘Sir, are you Mr. Irfan?’

I was so depressed that I could only shake head in response.

‘The final call for you has been announced. You have delayed the flight. Will you please board now?’ the airline staff said in a harsh tone.

The diary made me feel the pain and sorrow that the old man had suffered through. Without looking at the airline staff, and pardoning their unprofessional behavior, I stood up and boarded the flight.

The flight took off, after some minutes, breakfast was served. I did not take. I was still wandering through the pages of the diary, wishing if moon could have spoken the final message. In this state of mind, I pushed the seat back, stretched myself, laid my head and closed eyes. I wanted to relax but my thoughts led me to a memory- a memory that had gone under the dust of time span.

It was the last day of college. She bid me farewell. Perhaps she wanted me to accompany her, at least to the gate. I simply said a good bye. She then walked away slowly while looking back a few times but at the gate she turned around and looked at me comprehensively. Perhaps she knew that it was the last time. I realized that I should have given her a proper see off. I rushed to the gate; by the time she had gone. She actually aspired not only a walk of few yards but a life long journey. Besides she was right, it was the last time. She belonged to Mumbai and it was our last day in college. Afterward I could never see her. I wish I could have understood her gestures. With this sorrow, I sighed and opened my eyes. The plane flew through clouds. I wished to jump into them, disperse and sprinkle like rains some day.

***

Two days later, I went to a Kashmiri Art showroom at Nowhatta, Srinagar (the old city)—the old man’s showroom. It was huge, filled with customers and salesmen. I asked for the old man named-Gul Mohammad. A boy was sent to him. Minutes later the old man entered. He was dressed elegantly, with a Rolex on wrist, a Shaffer in coat pocket and a latest IPhone in hand.

‘I’m Gul Mohammad’, he said in a commanding voice.

His tone and approach indicated that he must be a successful and a disciplined man, unlike the one who was seated under the tree in Jaipur.

‘I need your two minutes.’

I drew his attention towards the pouch.

His body language turned submissive. He took me to the personal chamber. I revealed that how I got the pouch. He simply thanked me and trusted my guardianship.

My curiosity boiled again. It was certain now that he shouted at the moon in Jaipur, implying that the moon must have regained the power? If so, then what was the final message? And what made the old man to shout? These were the questions that created a storm in my head. I saw no way to solve the puzzle except through confession. It was however a very hard thing to do but I took the chance. I regretfully lowered my head and disclosed about skipping through the diary pages.

The old man gave me a fierce look.

‘Get out from here, just get out.’

But before I would exit he moved out. Perhaps he did not want to make any scene which would unveil his personal life and the secrets of the sky.

My past and the old man’s story were much similar. We both could not explore opportunities timely. The old man still had an option, the moon. I waited for some weeks, believing that the old man required some space to calm down, though I was much eager to know the final message. He enraged on seeing me again, however my past pushed me toward him again and over again.

***

One evening, it rained terribly. I stood across the road outside his showroom. He looked at me and walked into nearby restaurant. I was wondering whether I should enter the restaurant too when a waiter came and asked me to get inside.

‘Get him a towel, or he could catch flu.’

The waiter offered me a towel. I dried up myself.

‘Trust me; I have no other diary to entertain you.’

‘I know what I did was wrong, that is why I want to apologize.’

‘I forgive you. Have some tea, warm yourself and please don’t bother me again?’

I was relentless. So I persisted.

‘Thank you, I promise I will never but please tell me what happened in Jaipur.’

‘I offered you to sit with me because my son would have been of your age. You should also reciprocate.’

It was heartening to know that the old man did not marry for a girl whose feelings remained a mystery to him. My past isn’t much different from him.

‘Please take me as your son and share a father’s burden.’

The old man was half seated on the chair, making it clear that he was not interested but hearing this; he sat properly and relaxed.

We sat silently for few moments. I knew he was gathering courage to pull the curtain.

‘I tried to adopt some but they intended my wealth. I have nothing to offer you, except the truth engraved in my heart. I insulted you, avoided you, yet followed.’

The old man was indeed a poor wealthy man. He had none who would care him, love him.

‘My father took around five months to recover. During that period, I always stood before the moon, expecting her to speak and deliver the final message. Simultaneously I felt guilty. I considered myself responsible for the moon’s punishment. After my father recovered, I rushed to Jaipur, where my misfortune had already knocked. Her family had moved to Punjab. I went to Punjab, combed every city, every district. I could not find her anywhere. After two years of rigorous search, I came back as a looser. Since then, I have been going to Jaipur and spent some days outside her house. I still miss her with the same intensity I missed her that night when the moon was silenced. I always craved to hear the final message.’

Feeling old man’s pain and plight was out of question even imagining that was a harder thing.

‘Why did you shout at the moon in Jaipur?’

‘You will have to promise me that you will never meet me again, only then will I tell you what happened that night.’

I was not able to understand that why he put such a condition but I said yes.

‘Perhaps the stars felt pity on me. They returned powers to the moon. The moon delivered the final message. All I can tell you is that she now lives in Canada with her nephew.’

He sighed with tearful eyes. He regained strength to carry on.

‘She is an idiot, like me. She also didn’t marry’, said the old man in cracking voice.

The old man left before the tear would roll down. I sat alone for long with my tea, contemplating over the twists of destiny.

I often pass by his showroom, though I never met him again. Also, I never saw him looking up at the sky.

***

Tonight, I was stuck in traffic jam near his showroom. Something strange happened. The old man looked at the sky. He smiled and said something. The moon was shining. He is certainly up to something. A liar will always be a liar. I do not know when I lose my patience and break another promise.