Shivcharan Singh Grewal, a retired army personnel of distinguished service had taken voluntary retirement in his early-50s and had moved on to a board position in a well known private sector company where too he had a successful run well into his early 70s. Over the last few years, he had been faced with an indifferent health, onset by a heart attack, which he coped with in his characteristic never-say die attitude. A bon-vivant to the core, he enjoyed his Patiala pegs in the company of his gregarious army and civilian friends and their families, full of laughter, ribald jokes and repartees.
A recent second heart attack had rung the alarm bells and had necessitated admission into an army hospital close by to his villa in the cantonment vicinity of Pune. A slew of medical check up had thrown up other worrisome indicators of deficient liver and kidney functioning, taking a toll on Shiv’s overall health.
The consequent health and diet restrictions, not to mention a cutback on daily walks and jogs, had limited Shiv’s social life and he was missing these interactions terribly, more so as someone who has lost his wife of 25 years and 25 years’ old son in an unfortunate road accident in Mumbai, whilst on a family holiday in 2000. Shiv was bereaved and broken, but looking at the fatality and finality of it all, he neither pressed any charges or claim any compensation; his wife and son were never going to come back. Silver jubilee had a completely different connotation for Shiv from that day, but this never came in the way of his celebrating birthdays and anniversaries and golden jubilees of his friends and family folks. They were the reason for his joy of existence and resilience in the face of destiny’s play.
Following the loss of his wife and son, he had got used to living alone in his large two storeyed villa. The cantonment vicinity was a boon for him, with the well paved roads, canopies of greenery, riot of colourful flowers, chirping of birds and tranquillity. It was in a central location, while accessible to all parts of Pune. He was fortunate to have purchased the large villa in the gated community during his active army life and many of his neighbours were from the services and a few civilians.
Shiv had a decent pension income and investments. He could live comfortably, travel frequently and regularly host parties at home for friends and relatives. On the suggestion of one of his friends, Shiv had considered leasing out a part of his commodious villa, which will not only generate some income to cover inflation in the cost of living, but also provide some kind of company at close quarters. His ad had elicited several responses and he had to carefully sift it to decide on a suitable lessee. Shiv found one of the respondents, a youngster called Makarand Gaitonde, in his mid-twenties from Mumbai, with a good educational background, appealing and fixed up a meeting with him to get to know him a bit more. He had to be cautious, living alone that he was in his large villa and in a vulnerable age of 55 at that time. Shiv learnt that Makarand was the only son of his parents, who a year earlier had perished in an avalanche in Uttarakhand whilst on a pilgrimage. Makarand had since completed his post-graduation in finance and economic and had got a campus job offer with a leading engineering company in Pune. He was expected to join in a fortnight’s time and Shiv’s villa was a perfect option for him given the central location and nearness to the place of work.  Shiv intuitively felt positive about Makarand, all of 25 and full of enthusiasm like his own son was, and agreed to the lease for an initial period of three years with an option of renewal and escalation in rental thereafter. Thas was in 2003 and twenty years later, Makarand had continued to be Shiv’s lessee.
Over the 20 years period, which started off as a lessor-lessee relationship, Shiv and Makarand had bonded very well, guided by some invisible connection of the universe. If Shiv had lost his wife and son, Makarand had lost his parents. If Shiv was living alone, Makarand was orphaned and lonely in life. Both Shiv and Makarand  were extroverts and mingled easily. Shiv would regale Makarand with his army stories and Makarand would enthral Shiv with his campus love and sob tales. Both were acute and articulate and could hold conversations on diverse topics for hours. Both were socially conscious and generous in donating for deserving causes. Shiv bloomed and Makarand flowered in each other’s company, like a magical osmosis effect. Their daily get togethers at the dining table, an idea which Shiv had mooted, was something joyous that both looked forward to, a platform for just conversing like a family, express concerns, seek ideas and everything else. The close relationship soon saw Shiv becoming a surrogate parent for Makarand and Makarand a son that Shiv had lost young.  It was a matter of time before the villa become fuller with Shiv ensuring a good match for Makarand and welcoming home a lovely bride in Malati. The Grewal and Gaitonde family had fused, made stronger with the arrival of the stork before long. Shiv’s empty villa of the past had become full and ebullient with a complete family, though not co-sanguine. It didn’t matter to either Shiv or Makarand, their hearts heard the beats of bond thicker than blood.
As Shiv turned 75, Makarand organised for an intimate party in the villa lawns and all of Shiv’s close friends and relatives had come over and had a whale of a time with Shiv at his elemental best and Makarand playing a gracious host. Shiv was all smiles, Makarand’s entry into his life had remarkably made it fulfilling and satisfying.
After the guests had departed and Malati and the child had retired to bed, Shiv and Makarand were having a quite time together, imbibing a celebratory liqueur and pouring their hearts out to each other and recounting their past and the present. Shiv narrated to Makarand how his wife and son had passed at the turn of the century. Shiv, his wife and son were waiting at the busy Bandra HP petrol pump junction for the signal to turn green so that they could cross. As they were waiting, a car suddenly swerved at the signal to avoid hitting a teenager who was darting across the road and came hurtling at them. In a flash, it hit his wife and son directly and what remained was their badly crushed bodies. The driver of the car was also badly injured while his co-passenger was safe. Shiv, with the help of the cops and a couple of helpful people, had taken them to the close by Lilavati hospital. Unfortunately, nothing much could be done. Shiv’s wife and son were pronounced DoA. The driver of the car had been badly injured and was being treated and under intensive care. Shiv subsequently learnt about the sequence of events that lead to the unfortunate deaths, from the driver’s co-passenger, who happened to be his wife. In a bid to save a teenager’s life, her husband had to swerve suddenly and lost control of the car. One life was saved, but two lives had been spent. The names of the driver and his wife were Shankar and Meera Gaitonde. Shiv said to Makarand that he did not see any point in filing a police case given the nature of the accident and had departed to Pune the next day to do the final rituals of his wife and son, while wishing Meera well and Shankar a speedy recovery.
When Makarand heard the names, he was stunned. For Shankar and Meera were his parents. Makarand had been away at the campus when the accident had occurred in 2000 and his parents had told him about it though not the complete details about the victims. His parents had been wracked with guilt and grief and were remorseful. They did not like to talk about the unfortunate event and neither did they want Makarand to be disturbed and lose his focus on studies. In a bid to atone, they had been doing the rounds of the Siddhivinayak, Babulnath and Phanaswadi temples in Mumbai and donated large sums to NGOs providing succour to accident victims. They soon expressed a desire to visit the Kedarnath temple in Uttarakhand in 2002 to offer their prayers and seek forgiveness. Perhaps it was divined that Makarand would never see them again. An avalanche had sent the car that they were travelling in careening down the slopes of the mountainous roads and erupting in a ball of flame. A mourning Makarand could do nothing, but pull himself together and move on in life.
Makarand quietly put his glass on the table and walked across to Shiv and sat down at his feet, not saying a word for a long time. Shiv was perplexed and looked at Makarand fondly and asked him what is troubling him. In a hushed tone, Makarand told Shiv that he is the son of Shankar and Meera Gaitonde.
Life had embraced Shiv and Makarand in a cosmic circle.
