Was He Penitential? Poem by Rajendran Muthiah

With the hope of getting some money
from my rich landlord-uncle
for paying my mess charges,
I hired a cycle and pedaled hard
against the pushing winds
and reached his house
in the hot noon with my shirt
wet in sweat, looking tired.

'Why you came in this hot sun,
my son-in-law?
Have you taken lunch? ',
he asked me with caring words.
'Yea, had meals hallf an hour back ',
I murmured and carved out a smile,
in my faded, exhaustive face.
No hotel was there on the way,
both he and I knew well
but for courtesy I gave my reply.
After a few minutes of kind queries,
I turned back in calm.

Ten years later, I saw him in the city
where I was employed. He was weak,
thin, and seemed a worried man.
I drew him up to my house
fed him with a sumptuous meal,
shoved some cash in his pocket
for the fares of bus and train.
He tried to look at my eyes
but I looked down, packed him off
with waving hands.