I was talking to the mother of an old school friend. She was a traditional and somewhat orthodox South Indian woman and both hospitable and astute.
Her son’s colleague, a vivacious middle-aged American visiting India for the first time, was staying with her for a few days. Let’s call her Susan.
Susan was waxing eloquent about her mother, “She’s 87 but still like a little kid. So full of life and interested in everything. There are movies she wants to see and books she wants to read and places she wants to visit. We went to Greece last year and the trip was a little rough on her, but we got her a wheelchair and she insisted on coming for all the tours. She participated in all the activities except for the long hike. We were nervous at times, but she did fine. She is so curious about everything and wants to know how things work and why people behave the way they do and what tomorrow will be like. I hope I’ll be like her when I reach her age.”
My friend’s mother made soothing, appreciative comments and I sensed that she was being polite. And that she was troubled.
I taxed her about it when Susan departed on the next leg of her visit. She was forthcoming.
“I sincerely hope that she never becomes like her mother! How sad it is that someone of her mother’s age is still scrambling to find joy in transient events. Her body is giving way and she still insists on going to places and doing things that are no longer appropriate for her and, whether she knows it or not, she is being a burden on others.
The way of life she has chosen and is pursuing will lead to flashes of pleasure and also much despair as she realizes that she is trying to force her aging cage of flesh into tasks that are beyond it. I hope she realizes the futility of what she is doing and finds the peace she is really seeking.”
Something for you to ponder.
Peace!
