By Swaruparani Sahu:
The journey of life is such a funny play of emotions. What is it all about still remains a mystery. Like I say, I don’t know where we come from, and neither do I know where we are all headed. Sometimes I feel it is like the law that states that the total energy in the universe always remains constant; neither can it be created nor destroyed. The same theory I suppose can be applied to the number of living beings, the total energy in form of living beings always remains constant, life and death are just the simplest ways of balancing the equation.
To begin with, what is the reason that I am back in my usual thinking trance. It is something that happened and then I just could not hold back my tears from gushing out. I would not like to mention any names in person but I would brief about the incident in a nutshell. It is about the person I know – a sexagenarian who is diabetic, also has high BP and no kids; still works for earning his own bread. The only family he has is his wife, who also works to support the income. I wonder what this person has earned over the period of his life, because he is someone who comes from the perfect example of the “hand-to-mouth” middle class of the stagnant Indian system of classification of people. It so happened that the person suffered from cold and the moment he came back to his workplace after three days of so called rest he could barely stand, for his body was shivering and he was having vertigo at the same time. I helped him reach his room and after giving him some medicines, I, like a stupid pop-up window asked him if he had any kids … and that was the point when I had hit my own emotions with a big hammer. The answer was a completely helpless No. And it could very well be seen in the eyes of the person that he had nothing left to bank upon, for the only caretakers for him were his workability and living spirit. That was what I feel had kept him ticking for the long 60 years. The person did thank me for being helpful and remarked that this was the first time in his 60 years that he had felt so low. Without any further words I quickly helped him settle in his bed and moved out.
Now many of you may feel what made me come up with this absurd incident and what made me put it up here for everyone to read. The answer is simple. One day the 60 year old may be your own parents, and if you are lucky enough to survive with the habits that you’ve picked up in the 21st century, you yourself maybe the ones. All that I could feel when the person spoke to me was that he needed some shoulder to rest upon, some person to bank upon. Such an age is not the time to be shattered with the fear of death and burdened to work; but to be pampered with care and affection. It may be your parents, may even be your grandparents; people, we are ones who have to take care of. It’s a moral responsibility, not because of what they have done for us, but it is all about being human. Understand the value of people and care for them when they are around, for one day time it will be your time. I hope when you breathe your last there be someone who cares for you, exactly the way you did for someone. Old-age is not a burden. They are humans, and they were kids and they were the youth too. It’s all because of every single contribution they made in their own ways that the world stands intact. Care for elderly people, and it’s not much they want. Just moments filled with joy and love, is bliss for them.