A day of joy

My folks live in an apartment complex. We have a security guard, and here in India, they’re called the “watchman”. Their days are uneventful. They ensure shady characters don’t wander into the apartment compound, they ensure the lights are turned on, the cars are cleaned, the water is pumped to the overhead tank, while doing some other errands like watering the plants and sliding mail and bills into the apartment doors.

This particular watchman was a very polite person, and I’ve seen people be truly cruel towards him, because he’s submissive. I once remember seeing security footage of a drunk tenant’s friend slapping him after entering the compound drunk. I remember our watchman’s body language - no intent to strike back.

Despites short interactions, I have been good to him. One day, I heard that the watchman had to leave. I remember hearing from the neighbours that he might have oral cancer. I felt bad, and surprised, and I don’t know why, I just hoped he’d be well. He didn’t smoke or drink. He was a pure vegetarian. I did not have any contact with him, and I felt bad I didn’t ask others to find him. All I knew was that he lived in a far-off, rural part of the country. I think we suspected the worst.

When Covid ended, I always thought things would all be nicer. To hear of this man’s cancer diagnosis made me feel like everything going south again. Of course, the world is far worse today. All of this bothered me. It wouldn’t keep me up at night, but every week or two, I would remember him when I visited my parents place. I think everything was unfair to him.

This evening after work, and spending time with my parents, I walked down the staircase and into the darkness of their compound. I met a very slim man with palms folded, in worn-out clothes and I couldn’t quite understand what he was saying. Then he repeated with some exaggeration, that he was our watchman and he had to go home to get treated. I was quite overwhelmed to see him.

There is so much to explain than I can in this post, so much more context that is needed to understand this. He was trying to make sure he didn’t shake hands, out of respect, maybe that I thought shaking hands with someone who suffered from cancer was a bad idea, because in his head, in our society, he’s considered to be labour. I had to grab his hand and shake it. I had to tell him that I was very sad to hear of the news, and so very happy to see him here.

He told me that his cancer had gone away, and he needed followups every 4-6 months or so. He had a part of his tongue removed, and he showed me a large scar running around most of his neck. I don’t why but I emptied my wallet for him right then, possibly from my guilt. I asked him for his wife’s bank details, so I can deposit a chunk of money to his family. I’ll also get him a smartphone, and I have a bunch of things at home that I don’t need that I will hand over.

It was a bit late today, but I hope to sit down with him and have a much longer talk. That was one of the most joyful moments I’ve had.