In a well-known hotel in Lahore, an elderly man was sitting alone, leisurely sipping black coffee. When my eyes fell on him, I felt that in this cold weather, I, too, should have this beverage. The very next moment, I placed an order for black coffee as well. The waiter served it with sugar separately.
The first sip of the coffee without sugar tasted extremely bitter. Even after adding sugar, the bitterness persisted. The elderly man sitting across from me was watching this scene. He smiled faintly and addressed me:
“Black coffee without sugar is drunk only after the age of sixty. I suppose you are around fifty; that’s why the bitterness isn’t going away even after adding sugar.”
His remark seemed reasonable. Since he had underestimated my age, I corrected him and said:
“You’re right, but I am fifty-five years old.”
Hearing this, he smiled again and said:
“Enjoy life for another five years. After that, neither will your will prevail nor will anyone care. Then you and I will be sitting in this very hotel, enjoying black coffee-if I am still alive. Because after seventy, every moment leads toward death, one should enjoy whatever time one gets.”
His candid conversation drew me in. He began narrating the story of his life. He said that he had spent his entire life working hard to meet his family’s needs. He served in a government department and, to overcome financial difficulties, also worked part-time in a private firm. He got married, educated four children, and raised them to become responsible citizens. Upon retirement, he built a five-marla house, married off his children, and thus, apparently, was relieved of all responsibilities.
Three of his sons are employed and earning well, while his daughter, after marriage, lives in the United States with her husband. He said that he receives enough pension for him and his wife to live a comfortable life.
After retirement at the age of sixty, a new life begins-one in which the indifferent behaviour of loved ones forces a person to drink black coffee without sugar.
During the conversation, he suddenly began to cry. When I asked why, he said that his wish was for his children to live together, but all three daughters-in-law were insisting on living separately. The children were demanding that the five-marla house be sold so they could take their shares. He feared that if the house were sold, where would he and his wife go in their old age?
I advised him not to sell the house and to ask his children to build their own homes. He replied that the problem was that the upper portions of the house had been constructed by his sons, and on that basis, they were claiming their share and were determined to sell the property.
I asked about his future living arrangements.
He explained that the children were offering to rent a flat for him and his wife, with the rent to be shared among them. Food expenses would be covered from the pension. Moreover, each week one son would take them to his home and drop them back at the flat on Sunday evening. In case of an emergency, financial assistance would also be provided.
This entire story reminded me of the Indian film Baghban. During the conversation, the moisture in his eyes and the trembling in his voice revealed the deep anguish of his heart.
He also said that his daughter visits from the United States once a year and takes great care of her parents, but due to her own commitments and constraints, they do not voice any complaints in front of her.
The elderly man shared a piece of wisdom:
“After marriage, children should be given their share and allowed to live separately, and one should not interfere in their affairs. Parents should live independently and spend their savings on themselves. One should not rely entirely on children. Build your own house and rent out a portion of it so you can live a self-sufficient life. When you are financially independent, children will respect you as well.”
He added that one should maintain relationships with good friends and engage in conversation with them to lighten the burden on the heart and allow the process of catharsis to continue. This attitude protects against illness and keeps a person happy.
I asked what decision he had ultimately made.
He told me that he had sold the house and given his sons their shares. His daughter refused to take her share and returned that amount to her mother. The husband and wife sold a car and some jewellery and bought a small flat, where they are now living peacefully. The children visit them, and they also visit their children, but they deeply miss the presence of their grandchildren.
In the end, he said:
“Now my wishes and will no longer prevail, so I have made peace with the circumstances.”
After hearing all this, I, too, felt sad, because I realised that in the next five years I might face similar issues. Then I understood that after retirement at the age of sixty, a new life begins-one in which the indifferent behaviour of loved ones forces a person to drink black coffee without sugar. It is also true that after enduring the blows of time and the bitterness of life, even black coffee without sugar no longer tastes bitter.
The writer is a freelance columnist.