The old man on the bicycle

I had just pulled out dad's car on the road when an old man crossed me on his bicycle. I caught a glance, enough to put me in doubt that I knew him. I asked myself, "Was it Thomas sir?". The next evening, I saw him again. A midget sized old man with thick grey-black beard, wearing old fashioned carbon rimmed glasses with not so clear glass, riding an old hercules bicyle. Oh yes, it was Thomas sir.

Thomas sir, my favourite teacher, who used to teach us social science in school and I was his favourite student. He used to call me 'Raj'(with a mallu accent) which I found really 'cool' then. I remember visiting his place with Irfan(my best friend in school) and him telling us about his family over tea and banana chips(it was a rare occurance in our town in those days). I didn't like those chips, but still ate it so as not to cease his excitement about his favourite snack that his sister had sent him, and he sacrificed for me. I remember him tellin us that all his siblings were rich, unlike him, and he kept refusing to their calls to come and join them in business.

After all these years, he is still living more or less the same life that he did 13 years ago. He still carries that strange contented look on his face, blended with the weariness of his aged face and his grey-black beard, as if he is watchin the world rushing past him with utter silence, and no willingness to join the rat-race. By the time I gathered my thoughts and turned back to stop him, he was nowhere in sight. That night I told Gourav about him. He asked me if we should pay a visit to some of the teachers, but didn't mention Thomas sir. I denied uninterestingly.