An old tree
Yesterday, an old man of my grandfather’s age joined his hands and did namaskar to me. I did not know what to do, as he was one of the teachers who taught my father. He was bedridden due to his old age. He is 88 now. But he is not the old tree I am referring to in the title of this blog. The old tree is much bigger than a person. My father had some errands to run in our ancestral village Mangrul dastagir which is around 120 kms from Nagpur. It was long since I met my grandfather so, I joined him. After the long drive and the work was done, my father was keen on meeting some people in the village. People who he remembered from his childhood. His friends, teachers, family friends, etc. First we went to one of his friend’s house. The joy this friend had on his face when he saw my father was something else. It was like two brothers were meeting after a long time. My grandfather was along with us. The respect he got was astonishing. He was regarded no less than a father by this friend. S