Pa Ji

Father’s Day, June 16, 2024 

Uday Virkud

In my mid fifties, to get some regular exercise, I started a daily ritual to walk in the morning at nearby Mall. I walk before the mall opens for business and gets busy. In the beginning I was surprised to find many “Mall Walkers” like me at that time of the day. It’s a mile long walk, if you go around inside of this big mall. If you make three to four rounds, you can accomplish your goal of 10,000 steps a day. The walk is conveniently temperature controlled and level. It is sheltered from wind, rain and cold. No wonder, I was not the only one who had discovered this perfect space to walk, that too free of cost.

Mostly at that time in the morning, you would find retirees and older people walking, mixed in with occasional mom or dad pushing baby carriages or chasing toddlers. It’s a whole new world early at the mall, as the staff begin to arrive to open the shops and cleaners are finishing their chores. Much like an episode of Sesame Street when Big Bird one day wakes up early, to discover a different neighborhood as the street wakes up.

Over the years, I got to recognize most of the regular faces who walked the mall. Few well enough to say hello or make small talk as I walked past them. But mostly, I like to keep to myself and listen to things on my iPhone.

Among the mall walkers, I had noticed an older Sardar ji (a turbaned sikh Punjabi) and his wife, who came to walk most days. They must have been well into their seventies, when I started to walk. I think they took the metro bus every day to get to the mall.

In the beginning, both Pa Ji and Ma ji, walked together. They never spoke to anyone or said hello. Clearly they were from India and may have recently migrated to the US to live with their children. They mostly kept to themselves.

Pa ji walked upright, he must have been in the army or had worked hard for a living. Ma ji, leaning towards the heavier side, struggled to keep up with Pa ji, who like a typical Indian husband, walked faster and stayed ahead.

Several years have gone by since I first saw them. Over the years, I noticed Ma ji had begun to take a lot of breaks or just sat on a bench as Pa ji still made his rounds, but now slower and with a slight stoop.

Recently, I noticed Pa ji’s hands had begun to tremble. The shake had slowly become quite noticeable. Yet he still was there regularly in the morning to get his exercise.

The other day, I saw him sitting on a bench bent over. As I walked by him, I noticed he was trying to tie his shoelaces that had come undone. Clearly with his hands shaking, he was struggling to tie them. I walked past him and stood at a distance.

Few minutes went by, as I stood there watching. My mind wandered. I remembered my father. We called him Anna. He passed away, several years back in India, of cancer. I was in the US then and through his illness was unable to care for him. I couldn’t even visit him in his final days, as we were expecting our second child. She was born just a few days after he passed away.

I wondered what must be going through Pa ji’s proud mind, as I watched him struggle with this simple chore of tying his shoelace. I started thinking about my father’s struggles during his difficult period. As my mind wandered back and forth, images of my father flashed by, and suddenly at that moment, I saw my father in Pa ji.

Instinctively, I walked towards Pa ji, and kneeled by his feet to tie his shoes. He was very embarrassed at first, then resisted and started to pick me up by my shoulders. His proud self was saying no, as he wanted to be self reliant. We had never exchanged a word before that day, even though we had passed each other hundreds of times in the mornings. I insisted and said, “Pa ji, you are like my father, let me help you”. Finally, with tears in his eyes he let me tie his shoes. Then he helped me up and asked me to sit next to him. He held my hands for a while, as tears rolled. He asked about me and he briefly introduced himself. His eyes said it all. I quietly said, “Pa ji, my father is no longer with us and I would have done the same for him”. I sat few minutes longer with him, before I continued my walk.

In a small way, it was my “help a stranger” moment of the day. But this one gave me immense satisfaction. It was like helping my own father, which I could not, when he was struggling in his final days.

Anna, I miss you!

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