(Un)Strange

I am an overtly shy person,

On the contrary,

when it comes to stories,

I am unapologetically curious.

I travel in search of stories.

It was my 5th journey

in the last six months.

That night, when I was walking

on the streets of Manali, after

a long tiring day of hopping

temples and a pleasant sunset,

I saw an old man waving a hand.

So I went to him.

He was trying to call

an international number

from an ISD booth.

"Aaj mere beta ka janamdin hai,

kya tum meri madad kar sakti ho,

uska number lagane main?"

("Today is my son's birthday,

can you help me dial up the number?")

He'd called him several times

but couldn't reach out to him.

He thought he might be

clicking the numbers wrong.

I helped him dial the number,

but yet again, it was in vain.

He'd told me that it was the

first time in 23 years that

he couldn't wish his son at midnight.

and that his son gifted him a mobile phone

but it broke yesterday.

"Pehle kahi dafa usse baat hoti thi,

din main ek baar phir dheere dheere

hafte main aur ab mahine main ek baar.

Mera uski awaaz sunne ka kaafi mann karta hai."

("He used to call once a day,

then a week, and now it is changed

to months. I miss his voice, you know.")

He'd told me how every year on his birthday,

he used to make rasgullas for his son.

and light the candles all over the place

and watch the sunset

with 90s music playing on the radio.

This year, it's going to be

just him so he invited me over.

I accepted it and walked him

to his place.

Coming back, I saw the time,

it was 1:30 am and my eyes

stumbled upon the date in a smaller font

below. It was the 16th of April.

Before I closed my eyes that night,

I looked at the stars and wished

Happy Birthday, Paa.

In the last 5 years in search of stories,

here and there and never looking

back to what I left and who left me.

It was this particular

moment of forgiveness.

I felt the warmth of home,

in that stranger's story.