A Piece Of My Recollection

When I was younger, I lived in a village. It was really small and had about fourscore houses. What I love most about it is that there is this hill that looks exactly like the ones children would draw, triangular and pointy at the top; and if you ever went to the top of the nearby hill and looked south, you would see our house right at the corner, standing still in gold and sapphire.
I clearly remember one thing; there was this very old, wrinkly man of around eighty, with a staff in his hand everywhere he went, who would come to our house and abduct our television. He would sit on the chair contentedly and I would stare at him, wondering why he felt the need to be so cruel. I was robbed of the chance to watch movies or anything that I liked.
He did not know how to use the remote. So, I was responsible for granting his wish which was to watch football.
His wont was to stay till the evening. At three, mother would announce that it was teatime. He would walk towards the dining room and would beam widely if his favourite team had won.
One day, I had an idea. I could make him go away and never come back. The next day, he came to our house, sat on the chair and demanded Ten Sports.
I went to my neighbour’s house and waited. After a few minutes, I saw him hobbling near the neighbour’s pigsty and making his way homeward. This went on for some days; and if my mother asked him why he was going home early that day, he would reply that animated characters had appeared on the television. Mother thought it was an advertisement and she did not care more about it.
For the next few days, I had the television to myself. All I needed to do was wait for a couple of minutes and then I could watch any movie or show that I wanted.
He started going to other houses in the neighbourhood. It was not something he was pleased about. All the other neighbours would watch was Hindi series and he was not fond of them.
My mother later found out that it was me who had been setting reminders to watch the next show on Cartoon Network; and if you do not press the red button within five minutes, you’ll get Tom and Jerry, Oggy and the Cockroaches, Chhota Bheem or whatever show that comes on the channel.
And a few weeks later, everything went back to his normal.
It has been nine years now. I still ponder about it. Was I, perhaps, wrong for setting those reminders? Was I wrong for attempting to deny him of the opportunity to enjoy what he did not have in his younger days? Was I the antagonist and not him like I had always supposed? And all these thoughts would drown in the realization that he had long been gone.

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