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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
it is about youth and old age

Submitted: February 26, 2013

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Submitted: February 26, 2013




I stare at a person I once knew. Now balding, with a face creased in thousands of wrinkles, with bones jutting out, with a heart still young but weary with age, with a mind still sharp often reflecting on memories of yesteryear, with a heart yearning for love and compassion and none to find, with knowledge to share but none to ask for it, he sits alone abandoned by his children. Stirred by the memories of his departed wife and the children that he had raised with great care and love, he cant fathom why his children had deserted him when he had needed them the most.


When he had been young, the world had felt so warm, exciting and inviting. However as he grew up, the trials and tribulations in life taught him that life was a path laden with undulating joy and grief. Nothing was constant. Everything was in a constant state of flux. No single moment was the same. In maturity, he had seen life from an angle so much different than when he had been young and immature.


He had been impulsive and rash when young. As he had grown older, he had become more patient, wiser and more rational. Everything in life that seemed to be attractive from when he had been young had stemmed from desire and lust. As he grew older, experience taught him that what ones heart found attractive often had a detrimental impact on ones life and yet the society seemed to revel in these desires and evils.

Nothing good could be bought from evil and yet evil was needed to understand what was good. It was exactly like illness was necessary to understand the gift of health. And sorrow was necessary to experience joy.

Seconds had turned to minutes and minutes into years and years into decades. He had once been young but then he grew up and married to have children of his own. With marriage came responsibility and with children the degree of responsibility became many times more but the love of his wife and the joy of raising his children and sharing in their sorrow and happiness consumed his life. And then came the day when they had decided to lead lives of theres on their own. Life had come down crashing when his wife had passed away. All alone, he thought of selling his house and living in an old retirement home for his children had refused to care for him. It had grieved him a lot and made him older quiet fast.


Now sitting in one of the rooms of the retirement home, his only companions were old geysers like him, men and women, left alone, deserted and abandoned, forgotten by society. Strangers in the form of care givers tried to make them happy but the only thing most of them longed for was for their own kith and kin to visit them if for a day. Many of them still held onto the pictures of their children when they had been babies and when they had grown up and married.

They carried forth fond memories of them but did they remember them.

And then sitting in the room, that person who was I, slipped into a deep sleep never to wake again.


My life had come to an end...............

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