Soaking in life’s experiences from the elderly
I WISH ALL OF US WOULD TAKE OUT TIME TO SPEND TIME WITH THE OLDIES, LEARNING FROM LIFE’S EXPERIENCES AS THEY ARE THE ONES WHO ARE THE BACKBONE OF LIFE
I am one of the migratory birds dipping into the ocean of studies/coaching in Chandigarh. Right now, I am part of the tribe of mothers – identified by Moses as the stressed-out crazy paranoid mothers – who have embraced every god or goddess in the hope that their child does well in the ‘ make or break’ board exams.
I walk to preserve my sanity for the next child in line. I walk in one of the innumerable parks of City Beautiful. To introduce you, the park is an oasis of entertainment, non-stop soap opera of a world that is increasingly going online.
We will all like the status, we will comment about everything that ails the system but to be the change so that something happens well is expecting bit too much. ‘Who has the time?’ is the favorite reply.
The green, well thoughtout park in our sector is quaintly charming. Let me introduce you to the regulars here. The lovebirds who sit here with no shame or inhibitions. It is like watching a 70’s movie: they sit so sweetly on the benches, openly or some even behind the trees, wrapped around each other with no care for the world. You think their little hearts will float around them. They visit the park in the middle of the day! Then, the park has the authorised ‘maalis’ who are supposed to maintain the park.
Well, they do their work, but mostly what they do is sunbathe. I have come to the conclusion that they are the forerunners of those inhabiting the nudist beaches of Europe.
In fact, they align their cycles in a row, hang their lunch boxes on the trees to avoid scavengers like stray dogs and lie soaking in the sun and earn wages in return.
I must thank Manekaji here, for supporting the stray dog population which rules the place like a person fief; never mind that yours truly has been bitten by one of these creatures. My leg must look like a tasty morsel! Or maybe it is the alien smell of Punjab that does not gel with the hoity-toity matrons of these sectors.
Ah! the madams are adorable. They are called ‘didi’, ‘ bibiji’, ‘bibaji’ or madam, depending on who is addressing whom. They power-walk, dressed in designer shiny fare; walking to lose the kilos that somehow just adds up. The conversations are priceless; they gain weight because they do not eat anything; it’s just the crazy hectic social calendar. The common characteristic these ladies have is the well-manicured finger on speed dial to update on the gossip.
My favorite group is the group of oldies. The adorable, sweet men and woman who sit in groups from 3 in the afternoon to the last warm dying ray of the setting sun. They come together to maintain their dignity and selfrespect; drawn together by a common need for company amid the hustle and bustle of their homes.
They come, share stories; wizened faces, wearing glasses and holding canes with backs straight.
This is my core group; they are the ones whom I talk to. In fact, I wish all of us would take out time to spend time with them, learning from life’s experiences as they are the ones who are the backbone of life.
It does not take time for the greens to turn brown, so one should hurry.
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