Life After 60

Cupid you must have heard of, the impish little fellow with a bow and arrow that is forever shadowing lovers. He has a cousin who is less well known. It is Boredom. He wields a blowpipe with which he wreaks mayhem, shooting darts at people who have little to do but twiddle their thumbs all day. The day came when the office was able to see my boots darken its doorstep for the last time. There was also a chorus wishing me a ‘happy retired life’. I nodded happily all around little knowing what I was letting myself in for.  At home I unpacked the goodbye presents and was thrilled to see that one was a microwave oven and another a dinner set. I also got a box of sweets. My elder daughter immediately confiscated them saying that it was too bad that I could not have them. She does not like sweets either, so I did not know what she did with them. The day after was glorious. The alarm did go off, but I put in on snooze. I put it back on snooze again after it rang. Then I swi...

I was amazed to find a sheep baying at the moon. "What are you doing?" I asked. "Shh!" he hissed," I'm imitating a wolf." "I beg your pardon?" I asked. "I'm imitating a wolf," he repeated sheepishly. "Why?" I asked bluntly. "Because wolves prey," he said. "They say their prayers, do they?" I asked amazed. "Baa! "And, you like the moon?" I asked. "Baa," he snarled going back to the wolf routine. "So you are a sheep in wolves clothing?" "It's the latest fashion," he replied. "Do you always horn in?" I asked wishing to be illuminated. "No, I only honk it," the sheep replied. "I meant do you gatecrash parties?" I asked. "Wolves love to," he said. "Oh! Wolves have a love life!" I exclaimed. "They love sheep," he said morosel...

There is a middle distance one stares into when the mouth opens slowly and the jaw drops to the chest contentedly. There are many moments in life when this happens. There are some who are very gifted in the art. The head drooping also occurs on public transport in Kolkata. While you hang onto the bus handle as the man behind you pushes forward with his paunch and the chap to your left treads sadistically on the little toe, the person sitting on the right seems to go into a trance. You look at him fiendishly and wipe your brow for the nineteenth  time. The man remains thus even when you are unceremoniously ejected back onto the street. Then there are others who stare out of the bus windows at nothing in particular, except when their eyes alight on a pretty woman. You cannot mistake that look. It is the middle distance gazer at his best. He is unperturbed as you sway and get pummelled by fellow travellers as the driver tries to think he is in a grand prix. It’s not ...