Old man

The old man has just turned 60. He has retired from his okay-paying government job. He was so proud of it. He worked for 30 long years in the same office, same place, every other day, except the usual sunday and the festival holidays. He had just the same routine for thirty years of his life, exactly half of it. He would wake up early, do his usual morning rituals and prepare to invest the next 9-hours with polished boots and ironed clothes. He would do the same work everyday, share the same people as colleagues, stare at the same wall, same ceiling fan and its crackling sound. "Yes sir, ok sir, please sir..." He would never say No!

Now sitting in his verandah and tiredly looking outside the caged gates at the passing people, he would remind himself of the gone days and his youth. He would sit and pray. He would involve himself into spirituality. He would wonder about gods and their cosmic energies. He would contemplate and compare. He would look after his ageing body, scarring skin, graying hairs, darkening eyes, weakening teeth, bending spine, aching stomach, slowing voice and the changing generation.

Oh, his life, his golden life, his small life, his fast paced life, his gone life. How does it happened? It was so fast that he couldn't know. It went through like the speed of light. He had slept everyday for eight hours, 10 to 6, and repeated. Regression keeps coming to him like the waves of sea hitting the island shore. He is content at one moment and sorry at the other. He would look at the boys playing in the street and his mind would become of a child, wanted to be just as the same. Is he scared of death? Is he scared that sooner or later he would be bed-bound? He may not, but he thinks a lot. His handsome face looks deeply worried. 

He has a body and a mind. He is caught in between them for there is a long tussle. His mind and body, both are loosing away, rusting and melting into the desert of time. Humans are strange beings. Why does he possess such an intellect? How should he recharge himself? He needs an adventure. He must see the world. Let life come to him again, for death is sure, not the life. May he not look at the passing clouds with selfish nostalgia. Instead, should he sail along with them. May he build a shining boat!