The Encounter
When he entered into the restaurant first, the first thing that struck me was the sheer innocence and sweetness that was etched all over his face. Not more than 10, was my first guess, on second thought I thought he may be around 12 or so. He was as thin as could be humanly possible, with probably just skin wrapped over his bones, but his face was angelic. But for unfathomable reasons, I could immediately see troubles and problems, safely kept inside away from the prying eyes of all. Along with him came his father, trundling behind him, with an unpleasant grin on his face. I grinned to myself and said, surely this little fellow must have forced his budget constrained father to visit the restaurant and this was the reason for the father’s annoyance.
They took a seat diagonally opposite to me, so I had a clear view of their activities. The waiter came up with just one menu card, which was apparently not enough, because the father took it and began scanning through it. He struck me as an inconsiderate father who does not even consider the fact that his son may also need to have access to the menu so as to order whatever he likes. He began to get all restless and fidgety, he asked the card from his father once or twice, but to no avail, he then asked the waiter to get another one, the father didn’t make any response of any kind. After a while, the father signaled to the waiter to come, in all probability to place the order. The child signaled his father about writing something with his hands, but the father just gravely shook his head and began pointing at various items on the menu card to the waiter.
After this he went out, where to, I don’t know, and apparently the boy didn’t either. He called again to the waiter and asked him what the order was and checked it against his own menu card.
Almost five minutes passed away with the child fidgeting away and throwing quick glances to whoever may be giving him more than a cursory glance; still no trace of the father. Now the child becomes restless and moves away from the table. He goes outside in the direction to where his father had gone. A minute later he appears, with his father and two other gentlemen, both of them gesturing with their hands rapidly and using greatly expressive eyes. His father was also gesturing back in the same way, then he turned and I saw the hearing aid, the father was incapable of hearing or speaking.
I felt a sudden lump in my throat. The inconsideration that I saw at first was gone, what was left was a person who felt threatened by the more able people around him, waiting to snatch away his authority from him, to show him subtly, sub-consciously that he was an outcast. I wondered at the life he had lead until now. How he might have been treated by his peers in the merciless stages of childhood.
A reverence rose for the man who despite the mutiny of his existence had come out as a winner, he chose to lead a normal life and held his own regardless of his own shortcomings.
The friends of the father were looking at the child with a look of deep affection reserved for the favorite nephew. The cheer and the enthusiasm in the actions of the people were palpable. Leave the child, everyone else was incapable of an oral conversation. Surprisingly at first but more and more apparently later I noticed the child take part in the silent conversation. And suddenly everything seemed at ease, just the way it was meant to be.
It embodied the fragility of the people, how vulnerable they are, the wounds they hide deep inside in a place they hope no one could see, the strength in the same innocent faces, the compromises that the child had to accept as a part of his existence, the strength that it gave to his character, the patience that would be a part of him, the father who stood up against the odds, who would command respect from his son for the man he is and above all the affirmation of the victory of the human spirit.
