MR TERMINATOR.

The sports complex where we play tennis belongs to the municipal corporation. The employed fortunate staff are seen loitering around in the complex. Their working hours are miniscule and are frequently seen sipping hot tea, whiling away time which they obviously have in plenty. A job in the corporation assures them flexible hours and a chance of a second parallel job too. Such jobs are coveted by the masses and premiums are paid to procure such employments.
Mr Kambli was a ripe 60 year old mama, who walked using an old long umbrella for support. He used to wear khaki coloured uniform on duty. His face was very wrinkled for his age. He was an insecticide sprayer. He was armoured with a copper yellow tank with a nozzle pipe. The appearance was like some army soldier ready to gun down the enemy soldiers, I used to always him 'Mr. Terminator' which he always failed to understand. He used to grin innocently like a small kid.
Mr Kambli was an illiterate person but keenly used to watch our tennis matches, be it rain or shine. Slowly he started to follow the game and used to be our unofficial third umpire. He used to sit on the side lines like an avid fan. After our morning session of tennis, he used to doze off till lunch time. After a cursory spraying of some gutters, he used to return for his siesta. The tennis court complex had a lot of shady areas which offered comfort from the heat. By 5 pm he was seen trudging home. We always offered him a round of 'cutting chai' in the morning as a mark of respect.
He normally kept to himself. His son too was an employee in our complex but we never got a chance to know him. Maybe, he avoided his father or so. You could never tell nowadays.
Last week, Mr. Terminator walked inside our tennis court with a brand new safari and a gleaming new umbrella.
His face looked sad that day.
He called the ball boy and ordered a round of soft drinks for the players and the markers.
We were mightily surprised.
I went to ask him the reason for the soft drinks.
He said that it was the last working day for him.
He was relieved at last.
He would go back to his native land and live peacefully on his paddy farms.
Our third umpire would be no more with us.
We had actually got used to his presence.
Our old grandparents may not be functional or socially interactive in our homes but their presence unfailingly reassures us that their blessings are with us.
Mr Terminator evoked similar feelings in us. In his presence, the brawls and swear words had diminished substantially. We played like true sportsmen.
I usually have a couple of glares in my car, luckily one pair was unused and I immediately offered it to Mr. Terminator. He was overjoyed.
He put them on and walked away from all of us with a sense of pride.
The glares could not hide his tears.