Hormonious Living

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This is sort of a sequel to my earlier post:

http://gpsastry.blogspot.com/2011/03/games-old-men-play.html

When I was a kid I used to look at my granpa (75) and pity him. He had lost most of his teeth and couldn't eat the stuff we relished, like cashew nuts, green guava fruit and mango pickle. And he used to sit quietly on the floor and recite his prayers or roll beads till the Hindu arrived, after which he would bring out his trademark Gandhi specs and get busy. His head had hardly any hair, and on top of it, he used to get it tonsured every other Monday. That was a special day for me and my elder sister. We used to get hold of a few color chalks and stand on his either side and use his shiny pate as our slate...drawing birds, animals and poetry on it...while all the while he would be smirking toothlessly and pretend to scold us once in a while for public consumption. And he couldn't run like us and walked with the help of a stick laboriously.

In short we used to pity him.

Now I know how wrong we were. The poor old fool must have been enjoying our pranks and attitude endlessly.

Old Age is infinitely more enjoyable than childhood. For one thing, kids are restless and think that they are enjoying themselves when all that they are doing is wasting their energies instead of conserving them. And they have a future to look to and prepare for. And then there is this school. And after they grow a bit, there are these fretful hormones. And they have to then find a job and keep it, marry, procreate and take care of their little devils. And save for a rainy day. And live in perpetual tension.

Old folks have none of these troubles. If a little food and less drink is assured for the day, they just bask in the sun and enjoy doing things they want to do instead of things they have to do. And all those nasty hormones that urge them to do 'fight or flight' don't rule their lives any longer. And they have no future to worry about. All their achievements or otherwise are in the past. And they have this advantage that they had been there and done that and know what it is like. Like I used to say to my smart-aleck students that they tend to forget that I used to be a student once and know all about what is going on in their frivolous heads.

Anyway, my son dragged me this evening to our upcoming Nile Valley Apartment where finishing touches of the wood work, electrical fittings and other frills are taking shape. My son takes care of everything and I drag a chair into the verandah outside our door and sit quiet like a Buddha or a moron. And pretend to doze while I am terribly busy preparing my day's blog in the head.

I came to know that the apartment facing us has been recently occupied by a Bengali Couple working in the Hi-Tec City. And they have an old parent of my age living with them. And this Old Man came out and started his to and fro walk along the corridor (his constitutional). We have never been introduced and so I keep quiet while he stares at me during the reversal of each of his SHMs, hoping I talk first. And, as you know, the Lord God has blessed me with a nondescript face and figure to match:

http://gpsastry.blogspot.com/2010/08/nondescript-face.html

So, I avoid his looks and bury myself in my cell phone pretending to check my mails or browse the web. This makes him all the more suspicious. He was not told that I know a bit of Bengali yet. The Hi-Tec Couple have a rough idea that my son studied in Bengal.

Presently the Young One arrives and asks me to please come inside his home and sit instead of suffering mosquito bites. Again and again. The Young One doesn't know that I know his evil designs (he wants company for his old dad...someone to take the old goof off his and his wife's hands). I decline politely again and again. And the Young One says that his wife is asking me in for Tea. I decline again and again.

And to keep the Young One pleased I ask where he works. And it is quite clear that he wanted to be asked this question...rather.

And he says: "Oh, I have been in the States for the last six months and am going again next month". With a tiny shrug of his shoulders.

And I ask him: "Where?"

And he says aloud, thinking that I am hard of hearing: "States...you know, America"

And I ask: "Where in the States?"

And he says: "Oh, Connecticut"

And I say: "It is said to be a lovely place"

And he asks suspiciously: "Have you been there?"

I say: "Oh no, I never went abroad"

And I add: "Mark Twain wrote about his desire to have his retirement home in Hartford"

And he asks: "Who, who, who?"

And I say: "My students told me it is a lovely place"

And he exclaims: "I work in Hartford! And where did you work?"

And I say: "IIT Kharagpur"

That sort of silences him for a moment...

And I strike the iron when it is hot: "I used to have a couple of students at Yale"

"Sir, please come in and have Tea and Rosogollas"

I excuse myself saying that my teeth don't permit the luxury of eating sweets.

Meanwhile my son comes out and they chat in their Hi-Tec lingo for a while and the Young One complains that I declined his hospitality.

My son says: "Oh, he is so shy!"

And the Young One asks my son if he could drop him on the Bombay Highway so he could collect his car that he gave for servicing.

And we three have a nice ride and my son takes pleasure in announcing that he had to pay an extra 1.1 lakh of Rupees for our Double Car Park.

And the Young One turns round and asks me incredulously: "Do you drive in Hyderabad!"

"Also in Secunderabad"

Rest is silence as Hamlet says finally...


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