Old is Gold.

“Once upon a time”… countless of us have fallen asleep to this evergreen lullaby by our grandpas and grandmas. Perhaps the most colourful days of our childhood have been spent at our grandparents’ house. They have been our medium of escape at times of mischief, our source of recreation day in and day out, have fulfilled our whims and wishes at the blink of an eye and in their own way have imparted important lessons to us. Gazing at them, we are immediately filled with a feeling of security, support and get an essence of purity, peace, perseverance and tranquility.

Grandparents have a very distinguished personality. Those grey hairs create a complete different space for them in our heart. As children, talking to them has always been a sweet experience. They have listened to our pointless rambling more than we could have tolerated if we were their age. Their stories of fantasies and about their lives have always earned our interest and attention.

But what about their children? In this ever increasing busy world where multitasking is the norm, do their very offspring except a few have time to notice their parents aging? The very father who had nourished them, provided them with the best facilities within his means, sacrificed his wishes to see his child smile, compromised with his much-needed sleep to make sure that his child is sleeping safely and soundly is thought of as a mere outcast object without any value in many households.

The mother who had conceived that child and had been the very reason of his seeing light in this world, the one who has been the pivot of the family, the one who has treated her children as no other human being would have treated is thought of a nagging old lady without any sense. These parents are taken granted for. They are thought of as a burden, the sooner relieved, they presume the better they shall be able to live. In their big penthouses and apartments, their parents do not get space to live while in their childhood they had themselves lived in small houses. The wife and mother-in-law get onto the wrong books of each other and the son under the burden of his wife has to do away with his mother. They forget that at the end of their life, those petty insults, those faults made, mistakes made won’t be taken into count. The wife is too stubborn to let go of her ego, her fake prestige, her self-centred nature and this leads to the final rift in the ever increasing detachment.

Feeling worthless, insignificant, like a yoke they resolve to live in the old age homes. They try to smile through their painful hearts while living there. More often than not, they die there unnoticed and are not even visited by their children as promised. The old age homes are like a final hope to their suffocating life, they spend their time doing all that they can do to make themselves forget of the immense pain they all are undergoing. Various NGOs have come forward to help them, providing them with an extra piece of cake. They cannot replace their children but they can make them feel special for a little while. Talking with them they can unburden them of the huge truck load of things they might have to say. Though the process is slow and very limited, a little help can always work wonders for “We might not be able to change the world, but we can create a difference.”