By Mihir Srivastava
Prem Narayan Dubey, 85 years, was a popular figure in his locality. Physically healthy for his age, he likes to go for long walks, and prefers to stay outdoors. Though in the past few years, his mind was giving in, brain shrinking, as a result, was losing his normal self. Dementia caused him to forget recent experiences or surroundings, and had difficulty in swallowing food. Alzheimer's patients have a need to feel loved and cared, like to spend time with others to feel happy, safe and reassured.
An amenable fellow, Prem had leadership qualities, and a bit of an activist in his own right, he would sit for hours under the tree in the temple he helped construct just outside his home in Noida. He was for years heading the local resident welfare association where many retired generals reside, though he served in the army for 18 years as a non-commissioned officer before taking voluntary retirement. Prem’s father was a freedom fighter of repute, Pandit Chandra Shekhar Dubey was a close associate of Jawaharlal Nehru. A well read man, Prem, was a positive influence in many lives.
“He would interact with young and old like friends, zestful with children, even would play with them. A social, jovial man, my father was very popular in the locality,” remembers his son Ajay Dubey who's a 55 years old health freak with a boyish demeanour. Greying hair is the only clue that he’s much older than he looks. A teetotaler, he believes that good health is the biggest high.
Prem’s condition deteriorated towards the end of the last year, he even forgot to swallow food. Losing his wife, Brij Rani, a couple of years ago, was a rude encounter with the inevitability of death. He wanted to ensure longevity. Age was no barrier to him. In order to revive his virility and regain his youth, he ate a quarter kg of butter or dry fruits in one go, and he’d indulge in this obsession regularly.
Prem felt the intense need for companionship that led to some romantic liaisons. He sent a suggestive text to a young girl that embarrassed him and the family. He got in touch with childhood friends, who are now an elderly women with grandchildren. The family had to intervene to stop him; since he wouldn't listen they were forced to concoct a story. They pronounced his love interests as dead. This happened a few times. “Why do all women I approach die?” he wondered loudly to the amusement of his family. He was adamant to remarry.
High in energy, he’d walk out of the house in the middle of the night when the rest of the family was fast asleep. He had trouble finding his way back, but the whole neighbourhood knew him, and would be guided back home. The family started to lock the main door and hid the keys to prevent him from going out in the night. He had become unrelenting and fairly adamant in his demands, pursuits and was not open to reason. They say old age is a second childhood. Prem had behaved like an obstinate child. Ayurveda treatment did commendable improvement and was able to lead a fairly normal life, though there were bad days in between.
On the fateful day, May 7 this year, the family went for a wedding in Ghaziabad–the venue was an open park. At some point in time, Prem slipped out and started to walk away from the venue on a straight road. He walked in the middle of the road, with trucks and buses rushing past him. The family soon discovered his absence. They looked for him at the large wedding venue, but he was not to be found anywhere. They went out looking for him, friends and neighbours joined, cops were involved, the search went on the whole night.
They now know that he walked to the railway station, roamed around, knocked at a few doors, was tired and wanted to sleep, he was not welcome, they sent him away. He disappeared without a trace from in and around the station. “No one helped him. They could have at least informed the police. The Police station was across the street from there,” Ajay regrets. Prem was not seen after 2 am that night. There's a distinct possibility he boarded a train, and went somewhere very far.
Now three months have passed. Ajay feels his father is alive. The senior police officers have kept a lookout for him. They have received no information for an unclaimed body that meets Prem’s description. His whereabouts remain a haunting mystery.
Ajay and his two sisters haven’t had a closure. Death has a certain finality. It helps people to come to terms with its inevitability. Uncertainty is traumatic, like reliving the loss of a family member every day. A living agony.
Ajay often wakes up at night wondering whether his father has eaten or not, where is he? And Ajay breaks down.
Since Prem went missing, Ajay’s sole agenda is to find his father by way of social media campaigns, alerting friends and acquaintances, tweets, cops, politicians, mediapersons, and so on. Police have told him they would have known if someone is reported dead with his father’s description. That hasn’t happened.
To keep the faith is not easy in this situation. About 40,000 bodies go unclaimed/unidentified every year in the country. Also, according to the NCRB data, 20.36 lakh persons have been reported missing in the six years from 2016 to 2021. An average of 930 persons go missing every day during these six years. Prem is hopefully one of them and one day he will find his way back home.
Prem’s room, a double bed, and a small place to worship by his bedside, is waiting for his return. Only God knows what happened to him. But, Ajay hasn’t given up.
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