I am guilty. Of not acting on my thoughts.

A year ago this young couple with a child and a very elderly and disabled father set up their iron shop opposite our house. It was interesting and at the same time sad watching the family conduct both their life and business under a tree with all the dust and traffic around. I admit they were loud and annoying at times. They treated the road as their kitchen, bathroom and resting place.

In particular, I was deeply saddened watching the elderly person who was clearly unwell live under such surroundings. He would simply sit still and quite for hours together. When he wanted to rest, he would throw the towel he carried on his shoulder to the ground and lie down. It was disturbing to watch him remain so still. Maybe he was blind. I don’t know.

In summer, when most of us reach for the AC remote the minute we reach home, this elderly person was out sitting still on the roadside at the same place every day under the scorching Chennai sun. Unable to watch him be that way, I used to selfishly close my balcony door.

One monsoon day when it started pouring quite suddenly, the kid and his parents took refuge under a branch while he simply sat still not knowing what to do. It was the first time I saw life in his eyes. And it was panic. I called him and asked him to come sit inside our watchman’s cabin. He did not understand. Then the little one grabbed his hand and led him into our compound. He was reluctant. It look a bit of coaxing to convince him. Although temporary, once he had a roof over his head, he looked much happier. It killed me to watch him there in his torn shirt and dirty dothi.

A few weeks before Diwali, I decided to buy new clothes for the entire family. A sari and shirt for the couple, T-shirt for the little one and most importantly a nice shirt and a new dothi for the elder. Diwali came and my thoughts remained as just thoughts. Work, travel and selfish expenses. I then vowed I will act on my thoughts during Christmas. Christmas too came and went — party, gifts and lavish spendings. New year, Pongal. Still the same. Just a fleeting thought around each festival. Regret. But not enough to act immediately.

Last week, the street was unusually quite — the hustle and bustle was missing. Three days ago the family was back. The couple and the child. The man had his head tonsured. Nothing struck me even then. I was so wrapped up in my world. Yesterday I came to know that the grandfather had fallen down, was injured and passed away.

My heart is filled with sadness and regret. Sad, because suffering of the young and old rips my heart apart. Regret, because of being selfish and wrapped up in my own world.

As I look under the tree, I continue to see him seated. Painfully still in his shabby clothes. His old, sad eyes. I am filled with guilt, more than I can imagine. Full of regret.

Greatest lesson learnt: You may delay, but time will not.

I will carry this in my heart forever.