On relationships and train fares

During my visit to a cousin’s home in Dehradun, I asked his seven-year-old son Ishu, “Can you recall me?” His prompt, categorical response was, “How dare I not, my Tauji!” Quite loving and affable from childhood, Ishu was of a different mould, he would dote on guests on their minute, non-descript needs. The welcoming stance of each member of the family attracted numerous local and outstation guests to my cousin’s home round the year.

The entire family lived on the ground floor of a double-storied house. The upper storey had two rooms and a spacious verandah, which was earmarked for guests. Rather than politely suggest one to proceed to an isolated guest room after dinner as is the practice when someone comes to visit, whenever I visited Dehradun, I can’t remember a single day when my cousin didn’t share the guest room with me so we could maximise the time we spent together. Like me, he also relished the candid discussions in tranquil, nocturnal moments that help better understand why people think, act, react and behave the way they typically do.

Ishu’s regard for relationships also came to the fore a couple of years ago after puja celebrations in our interior village in Garhwal hills with a lone unmettled (Kachcha) approach road. I had to be dropped at the main road and the available vehicles returning back after the celebration had no space for the extra person. The spirited Ishu came forward and promised to happily drop me to the main road, some 14 km on the rough, undulating terrain, on his moped.

During the pandemic, one morning I reached Dehradun on errands. Since the job was done timely, I asked Ishu to get my return online reservation through the overnight train. In the evening, when he gave me the print out of the ticket, it showed the price of Rs. 1250. It was not a paltry sum and I offered him the due amount in cash.

“I cannot take it,” he asserted. On my plea that though retired, I was still earning, he retorted with a vengeance, “I am also an earner.” At my further insistence to accept it, he retorted in churlish tone, “Will you accept the ticket amount from Dabbu (my son’s nickname) too?”

That left me hamstrung. Though I trusted the immaculate benevolence of his intent but didn’t think that mellowing of years had so catapulted his sense of relationships. Why did the higher powers not align with the wishes of a benign soul that laid premium on relationships rather than cash values, I mused.