[Dedicated to World Elder Abuse Awareness Day, 15 June]
He sat like an owl- wise and alert! His retro-like reading glasses reflected his intellect with a blaze of glamour! And who says the 1940s gave birth to old schools? He was stylish but not arrogant, talkative but intelligent, and carefree but caring. A fine personality he carried, and spoke, breaking the last crumb of his cigarette on the black bowel of his ash-tray: There is a sense of poetry in youth today. You must be pretty interested to watch my library!
He sat like an owl- wise and alert! His retro-like reading glasses reflected his intellect with a blaze of glamour! And who says the 1940s gave birth to old schools? He was stylish but not arrogant, talkative but intelligent, and carefree but caring. A fine personality he carried, and spoke, breaking the last crumb of his cigarette on the black bowel of his ash-tray: There is a sense of poetry in youth today. You must be pretty interested to watch my library!
I could not disagree at any chance; more than what books he had, I was more into thinking of how his reading room would be like! And then, the 74+ cowboy unlocked a door, and led me in. The room was a treat to the eye. Posters and newspaper cuttings on the walls were newer than his new beard. The room bore the scent of a bachelor, and he silently cracked open a secret to me in whispers: When I newly married, I used to romance with your grandma in this room. I sang many poems to her here. The table here bears the evidence of many postage stamps stuck on letters to the Editors of dailies and magazines. The thick and black spots of gum suggest that. That guitar you see...it is my passion. I still tune into this piece when your grandma gets angry at my act of stealing samosas, or when I skip sitting with her on the verandah due to a thriller movie. I do forget the notes sometimes, but these hands are skilled enough not to play the worst of music. Days are still pretty exciting, aren't they?
Words from the old man were young still. Inspiration rests in the attitude of living a life. The conversation reminded me of my college days, when friends narrated their fantasies of life. He drove me into a sweet past. He made me believe that nostalgia is not the ultimate penance of the joyful past. Time flies, but it is up to me if I should let it go. Ageing is evident- that's life, but enjoying is a choice! Waiting to see the end of life is a boring pastime! I was happy to see him. And that was Mr. Ganguly's most coveted victory of his life!
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