Meeting Point

In a crowded and busy corridor, his gait was the slowest. Had there been silence in the room, the tap-tapping of his cane on the shiny gray floor would have been audible - a monotonous and somewhat pitiable sound, broken only when his old legs needed a rest. The corridor was air-conditioned but the perspiration on his furrowed brow was testimony to the fact that walking, shuffling really, drained a great deal of his energy. To any one who cared to observe him, he looked the picture of a lonely old man, unhappy with himself and the world.

He stopped suddenly, not quite trusting his ears when they told him that someone was calling him by his first name. Really, there weren't many people left who could do that. Some, like his beloved wife, had succumbed to illnesses plaguing the human body in its old age; some were bedridden and under the care of their children or a nursing home; yet others, like his only son and daughter-in-law, had died in the deadly earthquake that had shattered their town some years back.

He turned slowly, willing to entertain his hallucination. When he saw one of his cronies, looking ruddy and fit even though he was the same age, his face split into a surprised yet ecstatic grin. Any observer could now catch a fleeting glimpse of the happy and young man he once was.

"I can't believe that you look almost the same as you did when we played golf!" the old man exclaimed while they shook hands and then exchanged a hug.

The ruddy man laughed, "Oh, I feel better, I feel better! Life's been good to me and my son and his wife look after me well."

A shadow crossed the old man's face but he collected himself.
"Yes, that must be a boon. He loves you a lot, huh?"

"Oh yes, almost too much. He insisted today that I come to this hospital to get my regular check-up done. I didn't really need to come - nothing wrong with me - but my son - he worries like a Mother Hen. He wants me to be fit and fine."

"Yes, that's good. I remember he adored you when he was a kid. You're lucky, friend. One of the few ones who are."

"That I am! So, what's going on in your life?"

Before the old man could formulate a reply that would sound better than the lonely reality was, the ruddy man's phone rang shrilly. The ruddy man hurriedly slid his hand into his trouser pocket and as he did so, the phone got caught in the lining and fell down on the floor.

"Oh dear," he exclaimed as he bent down to retrieve it.

"Missed an important call?" the old man asked.

"Oh, it's my son. He must be worrying where I wandered off. I better call him."

The old man suppressed a wave of disappointment. It was the longest conversation he'd had in many days and he'd wanted to sit with his old buddy and reminisce about the good old times.
"Oh yes. Do call him."

As the ruddy man started to call his son, they heard a shout behind them.
"So, there you are!"

The ruddy man paled and the old man looked at the young man who, after a single disdainful glance for him, had eyes only for his father and looked irritated and displeased. His buddy, now looking strained, old and shriveled, stammered, "Meet my s-."

"Don't you know that I don't have time for this nonsense? I need to go back to work and you wander off, talking to people like yourself. This is a hospital, not a meeting point. God knows why the doctor thought you needed to come to the hospital for your treatment. As if anything could make you live longer. You're living on borrowed time as it is."

The old man was staring with dismay at his buddy, who had a look of embarrassment and a resigned sort of despair in his eyes. As his buddy meekly allowed his still-angry and muttering son to steer him away, the old man thought that his ears heard his buddy whisper, "You're the lucky one, mate. You're the lucky one."