History is for the faint hearted

He saw the old man often in the afternoon when he took a walk along the narrow roads that connected his shop from his home. Head stopped at an impossible angle, hands flung wide like a raptor, the old man seemed to have lost control of his organs, or so it appeared to him from a distance. He was not allowed to go near the tree where the elderly sat. Something about that tree had infuriated his mother – now long dead. She had barred him from going near it forever. He had not dared to ask her the reason at that time. At eight years of age, you take your mothers words as written in stone. Especially she is the only family you have. 

Now, 20 years past, he often wondered about the reason. Now more so, ever since the old man had taken refuge under that very tree. With its long stem and spreaded branches that seemed the radiate over an area as big as his home. Every day, for the past 5 days, he would stop and observe the man go about his perambulations. Something about his mannerisms looked familiar to him. And that nagged him continuously.  This feeling of knowing something but unsure of what one knows. Do they have a word for it in German? 

Then one day, the old man was gone. And on that day, Angad’s life changed. 

To be continued… 

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