Reflections - A Journey Through Life

Cold old and thoughtful My son has turned 16. Pulling his legs I call him, hey, sweet sixteen or sometimes I start singing in my hoarse voice, ‘I am sixteen, going on seventeen….’ And always he smiles embarrassed, ‘Oh, you are incorrigible.’ He is a thinking type of person with a ready smile. But this evening he seemed a little away. His face was a shade longer than usual. There was a trifle delay in his answers to innocuous routine questions. I thought to myself, this man has turned a bit cold. Like most men of my age, I do not readily find occasions that would make me especially happy. Routine day follows another routine day. A list of jobs to be done now, then or never is constantly updated at the back of the mind. A tussle goes on continuously between the drabness, worries, bits of joys and rare exhilaration. Age slows you down. The flames of the candles which lighted up all around only a few years ago, extinguish one by one. My mind could feel the approaching darkne...

A birthday gift It was for you, my wife told me as I came down the hall to receive the call. Someone has come to meet you, the gateman rang up, she finished. I wondered aloud, at this time in the morning—who can it be! In a quick analysis I concluded, chances are very slim for anyone to visit me now. Anyhow I waited and the doorbell chimed in due time. I opened the door with just a speck of curiosity. The man, a bearer in ordinary clothes, stood straight, stiffly holding a costly flower bouquet, an expectant smile hanging on his face. I took the bouquet from him, looked at the two slips attached to it. One announced, 'Happy birthday'. The other was precise, 'Arunava Choudhury'. I am Chowdhury, but not Arunava and my birthday had long gone. Amused I turned round to meet the eye of my son reading his morning news. I asked him jokingly, should I keep it? This is a happy birthday gift. He laughed. What was the address you were given, I asked the man. He...