Holding hands too late . . !

10

WAS rather perplexed to hear that more old couples were filing for divorce than ever before, “But why would people in their old age move to end decades of togetherness?” I wondered and walked to the park for my daily rounds.

I think my old friend Kumar had also read the article, because there he was walking ever so slowly with his wife and was actually holding her hand! Now there’s something about Kumar I must tell you; Kumar we’d presumed for a long time was a bachelor, he was in his seventies but had the energy of a teenager and walked with a zing in his step, but what we all noticed was his glad eye for anything that wore a skirt.

Kumar at his age still appreciated a good looking sixteen- year old or a sixty- year old and spent time flirting with them ever so often. But today he walked with his wife, rather slowly.

“She must have heard of his girlfriends!” said someone and we all agreed this could be the only reason for the wife’s sudden guest appearance.

“Hi Kumar!” we yelled out grinning mischievously at each other. “Kumar had a stroke last week and the doctor’s told me to make him walk everyday!” said his wife to our rather shocked group, as she held Kumar’s hand and propelled him forward roughly before we could gather round him.

“You want us to hold him while you take some rest?” one of our gang asked and was startled to find Kumar being pushed into his arms as the wife went and settled herself down on the garden bench.

“I know about Kumar and his eye for pretty women,” said Mrs Kumar to me as her husband disappeared round the bend with the helpful friend. “Ah!” I said.”

“I’ve been tolerating it for years!” she said with a sigh, “ and I’ve led my own life with my temple and yoga and social work while I knew what he’s up to in the office, here and everywhere, but it didn’t really matter after some time because I was so involved with my…” “Temple and yoga and social work,” I completed for her. “But…” she said looking at the retreating form of her paralyzed husband. “But what?” I asked rather quickly.

“I’ll be damned if I’m going to take care of a man who never took care of my emotional needs all these years! It’s a fast divorce and out!” I quickly went home and saw the wife hadn’t left, “You’re back early?” she asked, “Anything the matter?” “Thought I’d make breakfast for you!”

I said. “What!” she whispered puzzled, “You okay Bob? You’re not well or something?” “Not yet!” I whispered back, “Not yet!” I said again, as I scrambled to also make a scrambled egg for her, then went with much gusto at a good cup of coffee and hoped the trembling in my hands was not mistaken for Parkinson’s..!

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