A study in contrast

My 92-year-old father is distinctly different from my 82-year-old mother

Every month, I spend three to four days with my 92-year-old father and 82-year-old mother and get to witness the first-hand little things that bring them joy and sorrow. My father is sharp, although of late, he seems to have taken a fancy to interpolate his accounts with some creativity. During my recent visit, he was narrating how my nephew sustained an injury many years ago. My nephew had his head bandaged at the hospital and was complaining, "Amachha (Grandpa), I cannot see because of this bandage."

The accident and the bandage were facts but the complaint was a bout of ‘creative’ interpolation. My nephew, at that time, could barely utter a few words! Father has a photographic memory (although he often laments that he is fast losing it) of the events dotting his long career in the Parliament House. His voice becomes excited and his eyes light up while narrating anecdotes. He has a library stocked with books on philosophy and spirituality and he seems to switch off on most other topics. His absent-mindedness, for long the butt of jokes, has taken upon new dimensions. Brushing his teeth with his shaving cream and vice versa, forgetting to have his medicine but not forgetting to have his lemon candy, mistaking identities of people outside of the family are just a few incidents.

My mother, with her incessant love for all things gold, is a study in contrast! I guess, were it not for the likes of her, the gold market in India would have crashed a long time ago. She has mastered WhatsApp and is adept at forwarding videos and messages although initially she would get her emoticons all mixed up. She once sent a smiley face while expressing condolences.

She loves going out, meeting people, attending weddings and get-togethers. She, however, does not like going out alone and this is where issues crop up not just with my ‘detached’ father but any of us who do not show the same enthusiasm as her in attending social events. Being garrulous by nature, she is loath to miss out on any piece of action.

It is only now that I better understand what William Wordsworth meant by, "The child is the father of man," for I see them becoming ever more childlike, each in his or her own way, as they add numbers to their age.