When I will be eighty or perhaps seventy years of age, will there be anyone to hold my hand and make me walk confidently?
When the brightness of my white teeth shall be replaced by an artificial denture, will there be anyone to feed me with hand?
When the beauty of my face shall be nowhere to be found amidst the wrinkles, will there be anyone to take me out?
When the gleam of my sight shall be invisible to my own eyes, will there be anyone to serve as my spectacles?
When the efficiency of my ears shall be close to zero, will there be anyone to narrate tales and become my radio?
This perpetual thought is a silent cancer that grows within us just like rust and never sleeps.
Behind every young child who believes in himself, there is a parent who made him do so. Parents spend a major life span in the upbringing of their children, supplying unconditional love and everlasting support. We are hardly aware of the hardships they go through, until we become a parent.
But yes, I am sure about a lot of things. They are the ones who dance around with joy on receiving news of your success. They are the ones who stand behind you in hours of dismay, devoting undue attention. They are the ones who pamper your unjustified desires, with a patient smile that fetches them satisfaction. They are ones who will make all possible efforts to make your future bright, toiling all their lives.
With the western culture dominating over the Indian subcontinent, the prominence of parents is fading. When it’s time for us to be their walking stick, to be their spectacles, to be their radio, to be their spoon, to be their family, we are busy in our selfish pursuit of materialistic things. We don’t give them the due time, affection and care, that their second childhood desperately demands.
In their old age, their second childhood, it’s our turn to become their parents. Every child must acknowledge the effortless endeavours of their parents, who neglect their lives building yours. They should not be abandoned when they grow old, for they did not abandon us at any stage of life!
But my sympathies are with all of us, who are so busy expanding our lives, that we ignore that even our parents, who brought us into this world, are growing old. May be because they do not complain even now, we take undue advantage of their faith upon us, forgetting that even our fate can be the same!
The question still remains the same: fate or faith?