“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.”
