The Old Man and the Sea

The old man sat on the sand, under the shade of a coconut tree, with a story book in hand to enjoy as the waves gently caressed the shores. He had reached a point in the story when putting down the book was almost impossible and, with a whole lot of time in hand, the man thought of finishing the same before heading back to the hotel. He lit a smoke and took one look at the beach before he started flipping the pages of the book. He saw a toddler sitting on the shore, with the tiny strands of his hair blowing in the wind, playing in the wet sands, dirtying his hands and clothes. The man got reminded of a similar scene in his life a long time ago.

It was his kid’s first birthday and the family had gone to Goa to celebrate the big day. His kid loved sitting in the sand and playing with the plastic shovel and bucket, picking up sand from one place and then pouring it at another spot while the mother was trying her hand at building a castle but was failing miserably, much to the merriment of the father and daughter. The man had just bought a camera and a Kodak film reel that he fitted in the slot in the back of the small magic box. This was the moment and the day he wanted to capture for eternity and out came the camera from the pouch and he started clicking candid pictures of the kid and the sea relentlessly. In no time, he had taken over thirty pictures and then he decided to keep the last six for the evening when the cake would be cut in the hotel room. A specially designed cake in the shape of a bunny had been ordered, balloons and streamers were hung across the room and the family wore their bright coloured clothes along with birthday caps. A candle was lit on the cake and the kid enjoyed the cutting of the cake and tasting it too. The man took six or seven pictures of the evening party before they all retired for the day. The next morning, the man went to the photo shop in the market nearby and handed over the camera to the man at the counter asking for express printing. He was keen to show his family the pictures of the beach and the birthday party. The storekeeper opened the pouch and took out the camera and then proceeded to take out the film roll to develop it. His mouth went agape and he told the man…I am sorry but you seem to have made a mistake in loading the film roll. The film was not fixed properly to the slots on the roller which means that all your clicks were blank. There is no picture captured in the film and now that we have opened it up, it is exposed to light and is a complete waste.  The man was aghast and requested the man to check if he could develop a few pictures for there was no way to capture those precious moments again. The man just shook his head and handed over the roll and the camera to the man who walked back not knowing how to explain his blunder. All that remains of the first birthday is a huge card sent by the kid’s uncle that the mother had preserved over the years.

But, today was another day and time when he did not need a separate film roll. His automatic digital camera that lay beside him did the trick. He picked up the camera and zoomed in to capture some beautiful moments of the toddler playing in the sand. A bright smile came to his wrinkled face and he got up and went to the shack nearby to get himself a beer to celebrate the good old times.

The midday sun was blazing but the old man was well protected under the canopy of the coconut trees and he got busy with the thriller in his hand. He always preferred the physical books even though his kid had sent him the latest Kindle from the US of A. After a while he heard the sound of the waves loud and clear. He knew it was high tide and people on the beach were slowly making their way up the higher slope of sand. His eyes caught a young couple who looked very much out of place in this beach where people were either in their beach clothes and others who wanted to tan their bodies had no more than a towel covering them as they lay on the beach chairs with their bums looking up at the blue sky. This young man was wearing a well creased trouser, full-sleeved shirt and his young maiden was in a silk saree, all of their clothes looked new. The old man realized these two were newly weds and were here on their honeymoon.  He picked up his camera as the duo gently walked past him with the waves rolling in with gusto. With every click of the camera, his mind did a rewind of five years and by the time they walked away, he remembered his life almost forty years ago.

They had been married after a year’s courtship and while his better half had saved on her office leaves for the wedding and the honeymoon to follow, he had no leaves left. He barely managed three days of casual leaves for the wedding and on the fourth day, off he went to work. They were fortunate to have some good friends who saw the young lass’ tragedy and they decided to take matters in their own hands. One of them booked an overnight train from Kolkata to Cuttack for a weekend honeymoon to the eastern coast of Puri. But then as luck would have it, the late evening train on Friday was cancelled and, without confirmed tickets, they boarded the next early morning train and somehow landed at Cuttack from where the friend drove them to the bus stop to take public bus to Chilika. The young couple, dressed in terry-cot shirt and trouser and silk saree, were overjoyed at the prospect and somehow reached the beautiful lake, walked along the long shore and even took a ride in a boat. Now the challenge was to return to Bhubaneswar where their hotel was booked. They did not have enough money to pay the tourist cabs and public transport was infrequent. The man hailed a big truck carrying goods on the highway and somehow the good driver allowed them to sit in the cabin as he drove to the capital city. Climbing into a full-sized cabin of a Tata truck for the lady in silk saree was something she never forgot or forgave the man for but, much later in life, laughed at the whole episode as a honeymoon trip worth remembering.

The old man was now feeling hungry and so he went into the shack and ordered his usual sea food platter and a couple of beers to gulp down.  Some youngsters had also dropped in and they were having a good time doing the karaoke. One girl in particular would somehow force herself on the microphone and sing just one song…Summer of Sixty-Nine…a song the old man could also relate to. Despite the noise and music all around, the man dozed off in his easy-chair at the shack and, by the time he opened his eyes, evening was setting in. He once more diligently picked up his book and this time went closer to the water that had calmed down. He sat down and opened his book that now had only a few pages left to finish. With the sun beating down gently and the cool breeze blowing on his face, the old man loved this time the best. Soon he wrapped up his book and saw another couple in their fifties. While the man, with a receding hairline, kept wading into the water till his knees went wet, the lady, with short salt and pepper hair, kept shouting on the shore asking him to return quickly. It looked quite funny to the old man now. He took out his camera and took a few shots of the couple having fun on the beach. He then noticed that the woman stood still and looked straight at the sun slowly softening by the minute and going down the horizon. She was enjoying the sunset more than the water kissing her feet. The man suddenly went emotional as he saw the woman on the shore, looking at the setting sun. He took a few pictures of her silhouette and remembered an important part of his life story.

They had been to Kovalam and were staying in a good resort overlooking the sea. Every evening, his better half refused to go anywhere. She would sit down at a high point overlooking the sea and spend an hour every evening watching the setting sun. She loved this time of the day the most and often spoke how the sunlight in the morning differed from that of the evening. The last bright orange glow was a sight she would wait for. She said this was the ‘godhuli lagna’ or that time of the day when the cattle would return home and, in the olden days, parents would bring out the would-be brides to the prospective grooms and their families as, in the soft glow of evening light, the young maidens would look the brightest and prettiest. She would even take pictures of this hour of day from her high rise flat in Mumbai and complain about the multitude of high-rise buildings that kept cropping up around their house, obstructing her view of the horizon and the setting sun.

The old man put his book and the camera down and walked to the point where the water was touching his feet. He folded his arms tight and looked at the sea before him and wondered what the sea meant to him…was it an endless mass of water, fearful and deep or a place that was beckoning him to ride the waves and see the world beyond or was it that with every incoming wave, a part of his life’s story was unwinding and taking him into his beautiful past. He walked back to his hotel room and started enjoying the photographs he had clicked and told himself what a beautiful day it had been…a good book to read, good food and drinks to go with it, lovely people on the beach, water fast, furious and gentle flowing in and out and a plentitude of happy memories. What more could he want from life…!

SS