Ravi Tandukar

While window shopping at Chatswood Westfield today I ran into an elderly man who used to live in the same building as me in Ashfield some ten years ago.

I was still renting at this early years of my life in Sydney, so was he, sharing the apartment below my floor with his even older sister. I remember the day I moved into my apartment and had to guide the removal van into the driveway. The elderly sister of the man came out and we had a short conversation about how the truck should not be coming in from the driveway, rather should be coming from the side of the building where there was a paved road leading into the building. She looked frail and her voice was very faint, but she was very friendly and corteous as she mentioned the driveway had just been repaired at an expensive cost to all the dwellers of the building. I did as she said and she was very happy. Few months later one morning, the old man came up to my flat, knocking on the door panicking. With tears rolling down his eyes and his body shaking, he told me that the door to his sister’s room was locked from inside. There was also a note on the door saying do not try to open. I went down with him to his flat and found the door to his sister was indeed locked with the note. I could guess what might have happened, the old man also knew it. Our knocks on the door went unanswered. I decided it was time to call the police and ambulance. The cops arrived at the place soon and would not let anyone enter the room anymore. It was clear the sister had died. The old man was crying a very sad sad cry that hounds me to this day when I think about it. It was a hauting cry of a man who is now truly and completely alone in this world, there was no one left in his life.

I used to sometimes help them carry their meagre shoppings from the street to their rooms. Their rooms were barely furnished and had very poor lighting. Obviously, the government grant would not go too far in terms of luxury, it was not even close to bare minimum required for survival in one of the most expensive cities on earth.

Fact that the old man is still living today is honestly quite surprising to me, pleasantly. He must be in his late eighties now, or even ninety. He could barely walk today but hey, no walking sticks yet! Just heavily slouching, and no glasses. His skin had completely peeled off and seemed to be hanging off like a loose plastic bag on his face. I saw him and went close to greet him, he did not recognize at first. After a moment of recollection, he remembered me. Then a smile lit up his whole face. He made my day. We talked a little about the past and how it used to be in Ashfield. He told me about his life after there, there was not much except being transferred from one government shelter to another or some other places he could barely afford to live and his walks every day. He said he can barely see anymore and he forgot his glasses today. He told me that he can no longer recognize people’s faces, and people have been saying to him that he has been rude as he does not respond to their greetings. He pleaded in his faint voice that I come and chat with him if I see him anywhere, that if he walked past me without greeting it would be only because he did not see me at all, not becasue he is rude or impolite.

We said good bye, I watched him disappear into the other side of the road. I could not help think, eventually, it could be me, it could be any of us.