Upkaar sat in a chair on the small open porch of the house facing towards the outside, in his hand he held the newspaper of that day. There was a time when he thought the country was going nowhere but now it seemed like every day he opened the newspaper, there was new progress on one front or another.
The door of Upkaar’s house opened and his daughter Brinda stepped out.
“We are leaving,” she said
Upkaar raised his head to look through his spectacles at his daughter who was ready to head out for the office she had recently joined, then he looked at his watch.
“Aren’t you a bit late?” said Upkaar
“Mother will drop me today,” said Brinda
Upkaar turned and saw through the partially open door, his wife Gitali picking up her own office bag from a side table. Then she walked out.
“Juhi will not come to prepare food today; her mother is not well. Order something from outside,” said Gitali and then along with Brinda she drove off as Upkaar looked on.
Upkaar slowly got up with the newspaper in hand. He picked up the empty cup of tea which was on the floor beside the chair.
Upkaar walked in the house and into the kitchen. He proceeded to prepare another cup of tea but before he could begin, he decided to go for coffee instead with the tiredness felt.
Upkaar worked as a journalist at a newspaper five months ago. An accident while riding his scooter to work, had left Upkaar with a fracture in right leg, which had healed but somehow Upkaar had been reluctant to return to work. His employment had been terminated but he was still welcome to return any day he would like to.
Brinda and Gitali had been helpful and supportive. The situation had led to Brinda finding a job for herself.
“Take as much time as you need,” Brinda had told Upkaar
Upkaar walked back out with his cup of coffee and just then a mini truck passed by, it was carrying some boxes and on the boxes was the name and logo of a famous brand which made instant noodles. Upkaar hadn’t cooked anything in years and suddenly he felt, if he had to, this is where he should begin.
Upkaar drank the coffee, moved the chair inside, kept the newspaper on a side table, took out his wallet from a drawer and he headed out locking the door.
Ravi stood in a grocery store returning change to a customer when he noticed Upkaar walking in.
“I must be seeing things, Mr Chatterji on his own,” smiled Ravi
Upkaar had indeed been very busy with his work and almost absent. He scarcely had any time to spend at home before. Everything at home was managed by his wife and daughter.
Ravi was younger than Upkaar, they were friends from their childhood days.
“You are looking quite well. How is your mother?” asked Upkaar
“Some days she is fine and, on the others, it is a different story,” said Ravi, and then he spoke “you haven’t returned to work”
“I will return soon,” said Upkaar feeling a little stressed
“You don’t sound like someone eager to return,” said Ravi
“What do you mean?” asked Upkaar
“I mean it’s all right if you want to not go back to a regular job. You people can also do that.. freelance right?”
“Right..” said Upkaar
“Then you can have time for other things. Talk to your wife to your heart’s content, go to the market with your daughter, you can always maybe come around and talk to me,” laughed Ravi, “There is so much waiting for you”
The expression on Upkaar’s face went for a change. He did like the sound of having more time, a life in the neighbourhood which he had long forgotten in his profession. Maybe it was time to be back home for real.
Written by Anuran Chatterji
Early Morning Memories 
One response to “The Way Back”
Nice post 🙏🎸
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