2 January 2012
Today was another such day when he was really muddled up.
‘Did Rohit get leave?’
‘Yes, Dadoo.’
‘For how many days? One month?’
I exclaim, ‘Dadoo, can he get leave for one month?’
He is surprised on the other end, ‘But don’t you have to write the book?’ he asks incredulously.
Oh God! He is thinking that I am Vikram. I patiently say, ‘Dadoo, that is not me, Vikram has to write the book.’
‘Is it not you?’ he asks confused.
‘No, Dadoo, I am Rewa.’
‘I know that,’ he mumbles on the other side still unsure, ‘Now my mind doesn’t work. Is there no medicine for this?’
And as before, may be a thousand times, always at a loss for words, when he says this I say, ‘Dadoo, don’t worry, don’t think too much.’
‘Par main kya karoon, mera dimaag bilkul khatam ho gaya hai [but what can I do I have lost my mind completely],’ he mumbles, ready to cry.
‘There must be some medicine for it?’ he asks.
It goes on and on. I put the phone down, he may call again. I know that when I talk to him for the first time something triggers in his brain may be he remembers me and then forgets that he has already talked to me and keeps on calling. What does a man become? But then again for the millionth time I say to myself, he is eighty, he has lived a good life and he is not dependent on anyone. One day he has to go like everyone else. I am lucky to still have him and what matters in the end is love. He loves me and I love him.