A beautiful story from my younger days(recounted yesterday by my sister Usha, a superb storyteller herself)
My mother had an Uncle and Aunt (who had no children) who played a significant role in her upbringing and that of her siblings.
Mr S. P. Iyer, with a doctorate in chemistry, was a storehouse of knowledge and a great conversationalist!
He was living in a place called ‘Chintadripet’ in Chennai and would make weekly visits to ‘Ashok Nagar’ – where we lived – to see my mother, covering a distance of 15 km. His mode of transport was a hand-pulled rickshaw (I’m not going into the fairness of it all here). This was pulled by a man called Munuswamy! Wherever Mr Iyer went, Munuswamy took him along, and I presume they had long conversations on their journeys!
Mr Iyer moved closer to our home in Ashok Nagar to be near his dear ones. All was forgotten about Munuswamy.
A decade had passed, and as it happens for all, the dreaded day came when he passed away. I witnessed death for the very first time.
In the meanwhile Munuswamy, we believe, had been searching for his loyal customer for so many years. It so happened that he reached Mr S. P. Iyer’s home on the day of his death! Munuswamy cried uncontrollably at his ill-luck to have been reunited with Mr Iyer at such an unfortunate time.
Did the Universe conspire to bring these two together for one last time – even though it’s on such a sad occasion – or is it the power of love which we often take for granted? Times like these are when we finally stumble upon the answers to life’s ever eluding questions.