“You call this one of your best works?” The principal threw the project file on the table. It slid across and stopped at my elbow. It had recommendations for improving the grades of the students in my class.
Best work? It wasn’t. But what do you expect from a forty-year-old teacher, doing a job he least expected to do in his life? I always dreamt of working in a big-shot organization like NASA, ISRO or SpaceX.
And here I was, teaching old-school physics to a bunch of eighth-grade idiots who didn’t know that light travels in a straight line. My only mistake, if you call it mine, was that I didn’t bother to correct them.
“You recommend kicking these students out and getting new students? Is this how we will improve the class grades?” The principal leaned back in his chair and looked at me, expecting an answer to his rhetorical question.
I shrugged. “ They don’t have the aptitude, Sir. They are just stupid kids.”
The principal gasped. “Stupid? You think you are smart because you are more qualified than the rest?” He chuckled. “What are you doing here then? Why aren’t you working with NASA or ISRO?”
If you think heartbreak hurts, try seeing your dreams crash before you. Try living a life with no purpose. You will try to forget, but people will keep reminding you.
“Please don’t make it such a big deal, Sir. I will look into it.” I picked up the file.
“You will?” The principal chuckled and then laughed. “ That’s what you said the last time. All year I have received complaints about you from parents. But not anymore.” He paused, pulled a cheque from the drawer and threw it on the table. The ceiling fan creaked above us. “I should never have hired you.”
“But Sir, what will I do? Where will I go? Nobody will hire me in the middle of the school year.”
“I don’t care. Just like you don’t care about those students or this school.” The principal pointed at the door. “ Get your idiotic face out of here now.”
I begged him, but that didn’t work. I warned him of the consequences, but that didn’t work. I even offered to clean his car and do his laundry. I had no self-respect left anyway, doing a job I hated, so I didn’t care. But it didn’t work, either.
I had been living a life of what people call a “worthless expenditure.” They tried getting me married, but I had lost interest in everything. Physics remained my only interest, which slowly started fading when I began teaching at the school instead of doing research . Now, with the job gone, I had no reason to even get out of bed.
But there was something I could do to get my job back. That’s when I sent the letters.
***
Life is a fair bitch. Just when you think you are the most stupid person alive, it will throw idiots towards you who will make you feel better about yourself and the whole idea of stupidity.
“What are you smiling at?” Uncle knitted his brows. I had been smiling at him non-stop since the moment I spotted him.
For a while, I had been searching for a way to get my job back. And now I knew how. Even if the letters didn’t work.
Uncle had fixed my job at the school by recommending me to the principal at my parents’ request. I still remember the pity face he made, looking at me when he called the principal’s father, his close friend. The next day, I was working at the school.
I hated Uncle and never saw him again. But today, I was so happy to see him.
I was cursing myself and my life until this morning. I thought I was the stupidest man alive, but Uncle reminded me he still held the title. In fact, he was the most irritating, stupid, and best jerk anyone could find.
What an instant relief for anyone’s self-confidence when you meet someone worse than yourself! Uncle had been a bigger failure than me. He wanted to be a pilot but ended up as a train driver.
So meeting him was an easy fix for self-worth. It beat watching random motivational shit on the internet.
“Hello? Kevin?” Uncle waved his hand inches from my face, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“How have you been, Uncle? You look pretty old.” I took a step back to look at him. “What are you, eighty?”
I didn’t mean to hurt him. The words just slipped out.
The packet of milk in his hands started to shake. He clenched his teeth so hard that I could hear the crack in his dentures.
I swallowed. “Are you okay?” I tapped his shoulders gently to calm him. One touch, and the newly coloured black hair on his head started quitting, landing on my palms.
Told you he was stupid. Why waste your already limited time on such things when you should get ready to go to hell?
“I was going to meet Mrs. Rao at the park today. I don’t know why I had to see you.”
Uncle kicked a can down the road. It hit the dog napping nearby, making him question why he had slept there.
Wow. Another boost to my self-confidence. He thinks he can impress women at his age with that level of stupidity?
And I had been living alone, thinking that nobody would like me? I kicked the can down the road too. It hit the other napping dog, making him question why dogs liked humans.
Uncle started walking. His slippers slapped against the road. I followed him. “ What do you want?” he growled.
“I want to accompany you to the park.”
Uncle stopped and looked at me. “Why? Don’t you want to go to work?”
I ran my hands through my hair, thinking of an answer. If Uncle knew the principal had fired me, he would tear me apart with his pity looks. He was the one who got me this job, and my self-loathing had magnified ever since.
“I am on a project. It’s about the lives we live at old age, the problems old folks face, etc.” I smiled.
The packet of milk in his hands started to shake again. Gosh, I shouldn’t have called him old again. “ You are quite young, Uncle. But where will I find old people if not at the park?” I tried to calm him.
He turned. I followed. I didn’t care about the lives of old men even a bit, but what choice did I have?
My plan was simple. Get Uncle to talk to the principal and ask him to give me my job back. The principal respected him. But if Uncle came to know about the letters, he would bury me by forcing the milk packet into my mouth.
***
“Stay here.” Uncle pointed at the muddy desk and went to talk to an old lady and her friends. Must be Mrs. Rao, I suppose.
I sat down. The park smelled of wet grass. Around me, people poured their frustration onto the outdoor exercise machines.
Uncle returned with some of his equally old friends. “Good morning,” I said.
“You can ask these people about your project and get the hell out of here quickly,” Uncle said.
I didn’t know how to conduct interviews. But what choice did I have?
“What’s your age?” I asked the nearly extinct eighty-year-old men.
The old men looked at each other. They waited for the others to answer first. When Uncle gave them a hard look, all of them said something in unison. I didn’t really understand, but I wrote ‘nearly extinct’ in my mind.
After asking a couple of rhetorical questions about how they cope with problems, what they will do for the rest of their lives, etc., I was out of questions.
Gosh, it’s so depressing to talk to these people. How sad it is to live a life when you know it’s about to end soon. What reason do they have to get up in the morning? Is my life going to be like theirs when I grow old? It sent chills down my spine.
Uncle gave me a look to get lost. I didn’t know what to do, so I started walking slowly.
One thought kept bothering me. Had the education committee even read my complaint about the principal? If Uncle spoke to the principal now, it might come up.
And then there was the letter to the principal’s wife. I hoped she had not shown it to him.
Should I ask Uncle for help, or wait for the letters to work? I decided to take my chances with Uncle.
***
After hiding in the bushes for a while, I saw Uncle talking to the same woman. Must be Mrs. Rao. A twig was stuck in my sleeve. I flicked it off and walked up to them. “ Hi madam. You still look so pretty and young.”
I saw Uncle clench his fist the moment he saw me. “ Thank you,” Mrs. Rao blushed.
“Hi Uncle, how have you been?” I smiled and took a step back.
“What do you want?” Uncle whispered through clenched teeth.
“Oh, so you know each other?” Mrs. Rao asked.
Uncle shook his head slowly at me, teeth clenched harder. I nodded at her. “Uncle is like my mentor. He helped me get my job.” I kept pointing at him, trying to make him bigger than the Almighty.
“I didn’t help you. I literally gave you the job,” Uncle said. He stared at me and stressed every word.
God, I wanted to smother him right then. I had a different opinion about the job. I mean, he recommended me, yes, but I still had to go to the school to get it. So “helped me get the job” was the right way to say it.
“I know that Mr. Sharma is a really considerate and caring person.” Mrs. Rao smiled, looking at him. That worked. Uncle’s anger melted away. He smiled back. I shivered at the growing cringe in my body.
Both kept smiling at each other for a while. I had to interrupt their love story. “I need your help. Tell the principal to give me my job back,” I blurted.
“They fired you?” Uncle said in a disbelieving voice. My hands trembled. I dreaded pleading with this guy.
Uncle would torture me for the rest of his life, telling everyone how he gave me the job twice. I could only hope he died right after I got my job back.
“Yes. There was a misunderstanding.” I swallowed and avoided his eyes.
“What misunderstanding?” He raised his brow.
I rubbed my chin, thinking of an answer. Uncle would call the principal and know the truth in seconds.
My eyes landed on Mrs. Rao. “It’s about love,” I lied.
Mrs. Rao smiled. Uncle did not know how to react when the lady he wanted to make love to, stood right before him.
“The principal thinks I like his wife, but it’s the other way around. That’s why he made an excuse that I don’t work properly and fired me.” I lied again. My chest felt tight. I scratched my face.
Remember the letter to the principal’s wife? I pleaded with her to ask her husband to give me my job back. Desperate? I know. But what else do you expect when you have no self-worth left?
Uncle said nothing. His body looked frozen, his eyes wide. Mrs. Rao covered her mouth with her palm.
I thought, before Uncle passed away in shock, I should give him some more, so his body could take it all in one go and develop immunity.
“I think it’s unfair.” Mrs. Rao looked at Uncle. The words seemed meant for him more than for me.
Uncle smiled and nodded slowly.
“I think you should help him.” Mrs. Rao tapped Uncle’s arm. He looked at her wrinkled hand. I could hear his heartbeat loud and clear.
I passed him my phone. “Just message him to take me back. Don’t talk about what I said. The principal gets furious when people discuss his personal life.”
Uncle threw back my phone and pulled his own from his pocket. Good idea, I thought. A message from his phone is always better than a call.
Uncle called his friend, the principal’s father, and walked to the corner to talk. I tried to listen, but Mrs. Rao tapped my arm. “Don’t worry. Mr. Sharma will take care of everything.”
Uncle glanced at me now and then as he talked. Then he hung up and called someone else. It wasn’t a good sign. I tried to walk toward him, but he motioned me to stop.
He came back after about five minutes. “ You can have your job back. But it depends on you,” he said. “ You have to withdraw the complaint you made to the committee and stay away from the principal’s family.”
He wasn’t smiling. Mrs. Rao looked impressed.
“Really? Thank you.” I was sure the principal agreed because of my committee complaint. Or maybe his wife had pushed him. Gosh, now Uncle would take the credit for something he didn’t deserve.
“But,” Uncle said, “you have to do one thing in return.”
Wow. Good way to earn some money for the old man. I was about to pull my wallet from my trousers when he said, “ Leave me home.”
Home? That was all? Uncle was never this easy. I had no choice but to find out why.
***
I offered to drop him off in my car, which was parked nearby. But Uncle wanted to walk. When I tried to break the silence with small talk, he shushed me and pointed at a tall tree. I could only see some birds flying over it. I cursed him under my breath for wasting my time.
On the way, I took out my phone and withdrew the complaint. It took two minutes. Uncle did not ask to see it.
I had been to his house before, but it was a long time ago. All I knew now was that he lived with his two sons and their kids.
We reached the house. It looked bigger than when I last saw it. The walls were freshly painted, cream with a grey gate. Everything was neat and new, like a house kept for guests.
Uncle asked me to sit in the garden while he went inside. It was small. A guava tree leaned over a pair of plastic chairs. Along the wall stood a row of old paint tins with tomato plants growing out of them. They were the only things in the place that looked like they belonged to him.
He came back with a tray that trembled in his old hands. The cups rattled on it. It held a pot of tea and two cups. I rushed to help, but he motioned me to wait.
He sat down and poured the tea himself. I offered to help again. He waved me off.
“Why didn’t you ask someone else to bring it?” I said, trying to spot anyone inside.
“Sugar?” Uncle asked.
“One teaspoon.”
I watched him add a spoonful of sugar and stir. He kept stirring until he was sure every grain had melted. Then, he handed me the cup.
I took a sip. “Perfect,” I blurted as the taste melted on my tongue.
Uncle smiled. The smile said he already knew.
“It took me fifty iterations to make this tea taste like this,” he said.
Who takes pride in such things? I thought.
Then he took me inside. In the hall, we ran into his sons. He tried to introduce me, but one was busy on the phone. The other just nodded, with no smile.
He introduced me to his grandkids, who were glued to their phones. They did not look up, even after he called out twice.
I never liked Uncle, but seeing how they treated him broke my heart.
Uncle just smiled. When he saw me wondering about it, he grabbed my hand and took me to his room.
***
As we entered the room, all I could see was the mess. Colours were spilt on the sheets, the chair, and the sofa. The air smelled of turpentine. It looked more like a paint shop than a bedroom.
“Blame my age. These don’t stay stable anymore.” He held up his trembling hands and smiled. Then he motioned me towards the paintings.
There were a lot of them, stacked against the walls. I understood little about paintings. But I understood that the man had tried many things and put in a lot of effort.
His eyes lit up as he explained his process, the imagination, the inspiration.
“I am working on this one now.” He walked to the canvas by the window and motioned me to follow.
It was a painting of a house. Two old people sat facing each other, holding hands, looking into each other’s eyes.
“Is this Mrs. Rao?” I touched the edge of the canvas.
Uncle shrugged, smiling.
He went on to the other paintings, how much time each one took, how he made them. His eyes lit up again as he spoke.
“Do you feel lonely here in the house?” I interrupted. “They don’t treat you well. Nobody talks.”
Uncle looked at me and said nothing.
“Are these paintings a distraction from your loneliness?” I said. I regretted it as soon as the words were out.
“What do you think about the paintings?” Uncle asked.
“They are marvelous.”
“Then do you think distraction is why I paint in such detail?” He patted my arm. “When you find purpose in what you do, you are never lonely.”
“Purpose? Didn’t you lose it when you didn’t become a pilot?”
Uncle smiled. He thought for a while, as if remembering something. “ I did.” He nodded. “ But then I dreamt again. I found something I loved. I spent time on it. Now it makes me happy. I get up every morning for it.”
He sat near the canvas and picked up the brush. His hand shook. I waited for the paint to spill everywhere once again.
It didn’t. The brush touched the canvas, and the line came out straight. The shaking just stopped.
“You know one reason I love to paint?” he said. “ It represents our lives. If something doesn’t work, we can wipe the canvas clean and begin again, painting our lives with new colours.”
I watched him paint the old woman’s hair, one thin line at a time. He did not look at me once.
I thought of my lost dream, and what I did with my life after it. Destiny killed my dream. But I killed my life.
I remembered the birds over the tall tree. They found a reason to fly every day, in small things. I needed to find mine.
I pulled out my phone and messaged the principal. “I am sorry for the letters. But I quit.”
I looked at the blank canvas leaning against the wall.
“Can I try?” I heard myself ask.
He did not ask why. He wiped the brush on his shirt and held it out.
I took it. My hand was shaking too.
I tried to draw one straight line. Uncle watched me for a while. “Kevin?” he called. I looked back.
“Light travels in a straight line.” He smiled. “But our lives don’t.”
I turned back to the canvas. My first line came out crooked. I looked at it for a while. Then I picked up the cloth, wiped it clean, and started again.
Small Books, Big Thoughts
Genres: General Fiction / Literary Fiction, Non-Fiction / Self-Help, and Non-Fiction / Spirituality
Books for Personal Growth
Genres: General Fiction / Uplifting Literature, Non-Fiction / Self-Help, and Non-Fiction / Spirituality
