Not yet not yet

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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 darkness. Old? Not yet, not yet.
I was thinking on this issue before going to sleep. I have all the rights to turn cold, a little distant and thoughtful. Do I not have the age on my side? But this man of 16? How can he turn cold so early? I felt a little worried. What’s up? A budding love affair that I am not aware of? Some problem in school?
Next morning the situation remained unchanged. The same withdrawn look hung on his face. I tried a few questions. Same brief answers. Inexorably time passed and we got ready for going out to our respective workplaces. He to his school and I to my office. As he was on his way out, my eyes fell on him. Ah, what is this? He had a book open in his hands reading while he walked towards the door. Then I remembered—today would be his Biology class test. He told me the day before yesterday and I forgot totally. I must be getting old!

‘All the best’ I shouted in my mind just after he went out.

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