Read more








 Story: A Life Partner


Kuhaki
May 18, 2024

“Your face looks drained. I have tea in my flask, would you like some? I also have some snacks,” the elderly man sitting beside me offered.

I frowned, annoyed by his unsolicited kindness. Waving my hand dismissively, I signaled my disinterest. My mind was elsewhere, heavy with worry. My wife had been hospitalized for the past seven days. I was retired—a former clerk. Our only daughter was married and lived in another state. Instead of enjoying a peaceful retirement with cards, conversations, and leisure, I found myself shuttling between home and the hospital.

We’re from a small town where emotions are rarely on display. To be honest, I was exhausted. But what could I do? I couldn’t abandon my wife. She had taken care of me so diligently during my working years—my meals, clothes, even the tiniest details of our life together. I had grown used to her care, but after retirement, spending so much time together began to feel stifling. Her habits, like snoring or wearing her sari carelessly, annoyed me. And now, with her illness, I was overwhelmed.

Love, I realized, had become just a habit.

Lost in my thoughts, I was startled when the old man said, “Don’t worry, everything will be fine.”

I snapped, “Who said I’m worried? Please, just let me be!” The words came out harsher than intended. Embarrassed, I decided to apologize. But when I turned toward him, he put a finger to his lips, signaling silence. “Listen…” he said.

The hospital announcement system buzzed with a routine public health warning about dengue prevention. The elderly man’s eyes glistened. “Isn’t it beautiful?” he asked.

I couldn’t see anything extraordinary in it. The announcements here were still done by humans, unlike the automated systems in big city hospitals. This place relied on pre-recorded voices for routine messages.

“What’s so beautiful about it?” I thought. Still, I felt guilty for being rude. Preparing to leave, I stood up, but the man stopped me. “Sit, sit. The doctor won’t arrive for another half hour. Let’s chat a bit. You’ll hear another lovely announcement soon.”

Reluctantly, I sat back down, wondering what kind of person he was. He seemed to know a lot about me—my wife, the doctor treating her, even the schedules. I asked, “Who are you here for?”

“My wife,” he replied with a gentle smile.

When I inquired further, a group of nurses passing by greeted him cheerfully. “All good, grandpa?”

“First class,” he replied with a wave.

Another hospital staff member remarked, “Grandpa never misses a day.”

I was puzzled. This man was clearly a regular here, but why? When I asked about his wife, he casually said, “She passed away seven years ago.”

Confused, I blurted out, “But you said you’re here for her?”

He smiled. “I come here every day for her.”

Before I could ask more, he interrupted, “Listen, another announcement is coming.”

The same pre-recorded voice played a dengue awareness message. The man closed his eyes, soaking in every word as if savoring a cherished memory.

Curiosity got the better of me. Was this man someone important—a donor, perhaps? After excusing myself, I approached the reception to find out.

“Excuse me, the elderly man in the white shirt—who is he? Does he own this hospital?”

The receptionist laughed. “Oh, you mean Binoy Babu? No, he’s not an owner. But he’s been coming here every day for years.”

“Why? He said his wife passed away seven years ago. What’s the story?”

The receptionist explained, “Binoy Babu’s wife worked here at the reception. She passed away suddenly from a heart attack, just three years short of her retirement. A few years later, the hospital decided to install an automated announcement system. Binoy Babu requested that his wife’s voice, recorded during a health awareness camp years ago, be used for certain announcements.

“At first, the management didn’t agree. But he persisted, submitting countless appeals. His wife had a beautiful voice and was a talented singer. Listening to her voice gave him the feeling she was still with him. Finally, the hospital relented. Her voice has been used for announcements ever since. And Binoy Babu comes here every day, just to hear her voice. It’s been five years now.”

Hearing this, I was speechless. What profound love! It made me question my own behavior. Here was a man who cherished every memory of his wife, while I, irritated and tired, had been treating my ailing wife with cold indifference.

That evening, I sat by my wife’s bedside. She looked at me with tired eyes, worrying about me even in her weakened state. “You’re not eating properly. Tell the milkman to increase the supply. And your shirt collar—it’s dirty again,” she said softly.

Her concern brought tears to my eyes. I gently brushed back the hair from her forehead and whispered, “Get well soon, Sarama. I can’t do this without you.”

Tears streamed silently down her cheeks.

Inspiration: This story was inspired by Dr. Margaret McCollum from London, who visits Embankment Station daily to hear her late husband Oswald’s recorded voice announcing “Mind the gap.” Her story, a testament to enduring love, influenced the creation of this tale.