Thursday, March 22, 2007

Age

Since many years my only real contact with the word has been the AGE of Empires, Conquerors Expansion Pack II.

For the mental people, its a game, an era in the gaming world. Still loved and played by many, myself and Niranjan included. . .(R my hostel mates reading?)

Anyway coming back to the word, AGE is a small three letter word, hardly capable of inspiring any second thought or emotions. As a question, all it warrants is a short reply 'So and So years'.

Yesterday, as usual after handling the daily vagaries of the job of a software engineer, I was returning home, lost somewhere in between code. My research on the nuances of a hashtable and vectormap was brought to earth without much fanfare by the guy sitting in front of me. I was traveling by a local bus, and in spite of the traffic which I didn't mind much, coz of the 10 bucks I was saving by not taking a cab, I managed to get a window seat (Trust me, when you are just a fresher, saving 10 bucks is something! You can have a glass of chilled Cold Coffee instead of giving it to the auto wallah :-) )

Back to the guy, if you can call him a guy that is. He was the conductor of the bus, and sitting right opposite to me.

Age has to 70+

With a torn shirt, a tattered bag containing tickets and money, thick heavy glasses over his eyes and a generally forlorn look, this specimen was sitting on only half a seat (coz the other half was torn!)

What interested me were his antiques. Someone somewhere has said, that after 50, your age starts decreasing, and you become a child once more. . .

This 'uncle' was restless,
glancing everywhere in and out of the bus, hands shaking, legs shaking. . .
You get the picture right? In short horribly old.

He was doing everything twice, like hold the bar above his head for support,
leave it and then hold it again. . .
Look into his bag, find nothing, close it then repeat. . .
Look somewhere, glance away, and then stare at the same spot again. .


I was getting amused, and was quick to dismiss him as a 'MadMan', as we all so often do when we see someone sleeping on the road, or running about naked. I am sure you all must have encountered numerous such 'occasions' and passed away smiling.

I was pretty much about to do the same, and was beginning to stare out of the bus for some hot chick on the road. . . ;-)

I was pondering why was he even allowed on a bus, rest given the responsibility of a TC.

What caught my eye was him working...



As soon as a passenger got up and went to him with a request for a ticket, he went into overdrive. . .literally.

His shaking hands, went still as rocks, as he accepted the money, calculated the charge based on the destination he said, took out a ticket of the correct denomination from a bunch of hundreds, opened his bag and tendered him the correct change.

I don't think the task could be done by anyone more quicklier or with more sincerity.

This hardly took a few seconds, and he probably didn't even have to think.
However this was enough for me to give him from 'MadMan' the more respectable title of 'Senile'.

(To be contd...)

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

AGE II

The rest half hour of the journey was spent in studying this curious creature.
Thinking things like...
How his family must be...
Does he have a son? Is he working?
Does he have a daughter? unmarried (God forbid) ?
Why is he even allowed to work at this age?
Have his children abandoned him?
Does he earn enough to feed all his family?
Does he earn even half the amount he carries in his (ever getting heavier) bag daily,
back and forth, again and again, on and on?

His eyes, behind those scratched lenses, were really something,
His watery, dreamy eyes, suddenly cleared up whenever a passenger arrived,
He used to do a kind of survey of the bus after every stop, and give a reprimanding look to all those who didn't buy a ticket...


By this time, you are probably thinking I am the one senile, the one who needs to be urgently taken to a psychiatrist in that same god damn bus. :-)

Senile or not, I was filled with these questions, as I returned home that day. . .

What will happen to that guy?
Will he ever stop working?
Will he just cut his last ticket one day, never to return?
Would anybody notice that he is gone for ever?

And then, on a more serious note...

Do all men end up like this?
Why don't we hear of women going senile?
Why cant people just die, instead of having to go through this 'senile' phase at the end of their lives?
Do they understand others people and what others think of them, when their own brain cells are dying on them?

And then sometime, somewhere in the future. . .

Will I have the patience of handling such a guy?
What happens when someone in my close relation turns (God forbid) Alzheimeric or some other such crap?
Will I share the same fate some day?
Why cant I just say farewell and get on with my journey to heaven?
(very less chances though!)

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