Old Man and his Birthday Wishes!

I have never seen him, let alone meet him. I don’t know how he looks like. I don’t know how old he is (though I guess he’s old); I don’t know where he stays and what he does for a living. I call him Aba coz that does how I think he wants me address him.

But what I do know is that each year without fail I receive a postcard on my birthday. And it’s the same each year… A brown post card from way out with that same scrawny handwriting and more importantly with that same affection and concern knowing very well that this gesture of his will never be reciprocated. Even the blessings are the same… something to the effect that should I strive to be the best I can each year. He signs off with a characteristic “Tujha Aba”.

I picture a frail but active old man pulling out my name from an ancient diary that he treasures more than anything else in his life, putting on his glasses and looking frantically for my name in a list of names, not sorted by any logical parameter but fondly stored with probably a small anecdote attached with each entry.

I am of course not the only blessed one. Each one in my family receives the old man’s blessings on the birthdays, child births and anniversaries.

Occasionally he calls up people (of course he never calls me up)... only to enquire about the new developments in the family… did Mr X move to Kalyan? Did Mrs D daughter get married? Whats the name of Mr and Mrs B’s son? And such kind of questions.

What is it that keeps him going? I might never know.

Here’s saluting to the man himself… thank you for remembering me all these years.

This year I am thinking of doing an Aba on Aba himself.

I hope I succeed.