When You Are Old

Today I came here back from home after four days of Pooja holidays. It was quiet a long time when I went home last time. Everytime I planned to go home, there was some problem. Also, for the last few weeks, I was in a hurry to finish my MPhil project work there in the University of Madras, Chennai. I finished my viva on Saturday and was here in Tirunelveli on monday. I had thought I cannot go home even in another month.

I never used to have such a longing to go home; but this time there was a reason: my grand father was ill. So I went there......

I met my old grand father there in my mother's house. He is tired, became lean and he is desperate. I talked with him for a long time. We sat in the sit-out in the evening where he exposed his fears. His loneliness makes him think unnecessary things.

The conversation ignited in me certain thoughts about being seriously ill while you are old. I think that this is the most terrible phase any human being must have to pass through.

You are tired. You cannot walk through the vast paddy fields you have been sowing and reaping for decades. You cannot sit and chat with the fellow men in the streets. You painfully imagine your healthy friends chatting and laughing in the market. You go through the flash back of your life several times a day. There are no friends to come to you and spend time with you because they themselves are in other difficulties.

You rewind everything, every nook and corner of your past, from the first day you joined in the local Madrassa until now. Your father distributing sweets to all the other students and the Ustads. Your father bringing you new slate and pencil. You recall the joy you had had when splashing muddy water over your friends, they do the same back to you, onset of a fight and you beat him sitting over his chest.

You recall the days when you were a rebel to your father. You loved your mother too much. Your father wanted you to look after his paddy fields, coconut lands and the cattle and labourers. But you wanted to join some schools for studies. He do not allow you. You starts your rebellion.

You remember the night you left the home without saying anyone. You walked a hundred miles. You reached a Masjid in the early morning. The Moulavi saw you. You told some lies and you joined in the orphanage. You were there for a few years. Finally you came back to home. Your mother gives you food as if nothing had happened and you were not out of home all these years...!

You start working with your father. One day you get married. You give birth to your children. You bring them up with utmost love and care. They too get married. By the time your father passes away. Your mother falls down sick in the bed. You looks her after with the love she had been showering all through your life, still you realize that that was not sufficient. One day she leaves you behind. At this time, you feel a sense of insecurity. Still, your loving wife is a strong support for you. She shares your sorrow. She takes extra care of you.

You lived a long life. But the flash back lasts only a few minutes and you realize how short the life was...! Now you are desperately waiting for your death..!

Now, you are old. You repeat the flash back picutes like a movie. You watch it again and again. Because you do not have anything else to do, you are not able to do any physical work and you did not have a habit of doing intellectual works..! You are alone. Your children are away from you. Even if they are nearby, they cannot talk with you twenty four hours a day. Then your thoughts fly above all limits. You think too much about the death and the hereafter. You may cry in the lonely hours. You are waiting for the unavoidable death...! But the death too is busy. You don't know when he is going to turn his head towards you. Still you think you have to go on waiting him, even if it take several more years.

Note: I wrote it some five-six months back when my grandpa was suffering from cancer unidentified. He is no more since past two months; he surrendered to death. From the time we knew it was a cancer, the daughters of my grandpa started living with him on a rotation basis. Grandpa have a boy and six girls. His only surviving sister also used to come very frequently. His several grandchildren including me went there and spent lot of time with him. Most of the time he forgot his pain. I saw the love and care he had been showering on his children getting back when he needed that desperately. Love and care always stand high, it heals all sort of pains.