Octagenerian

That day, monsoon was on steroids, nature seemed to be on the furious mode just like the octagenerian sitting and starring out of the fenced grills from the covered veranda. Wind had also acquired the pace of the monsoon and it was leaving a chilling effect on the old man sitting, and cursing the untimely rainfall.

His Carvan was beside him and Jagjit Singh was also accompanying the monsoon along with the melancholic mood of the old man.

There was a train of thought that was running from his tangled mind, which was kind of a flashback of  his life experiences. He was upset that he willnot be able to go for his evening walk, he will not be able to watch the football match from the countryside, which he loves to enjoy comfortably sitting on the Road roller parked nearby. But this rain 🌧️ disrupted the entire show. Now once this plan cancelled,then he started to look for others, he called his grand daughter and they started to talk. The conversation, during its flow stick to a topic that was bothering the old man. It was his loniness, though there are four members in his family, but no one to talk. There was no giggles around the veranda, because some nasty communication device trapped it all. It sucked  the giggles, laughter, normal conversations and make it digitalized. People started to talk on digi platforms, people started to laugh via emojis, isn't it great! Yes, it was Digital India, that was his second problem. Now he is searching for the people who come out of the phone and talk to him, whose conversation take him back to time, he wanted to narrate the entire 80 years of his life, but there is no one to listen and rejoice his memory. As the conversation progressed, he revealed more, that how he saw his companions, friends, wife, and many more of his associates to leave this world, this thought sinks his heart, and he want to ignore this call, this thought, he want to live life but there is none, who has time to sit with him and listen his stories.

He has sons, daughters, grand daughters, grandsons, and he started to call each one of them from the evening, some don't takes his call beacuse they might be busy with someone or something more important, but next day he calls them again without even waiting for a call back. The child within him wanted some attention.

Journey of the life is on the verge to be dimished, destination is not too far, train 🚆 is just on the outer station, fellow companions are falling apart since they bored with waiting and left the train early, before the station arrived, those who come with him on the station are busy enough,they don't have any anxiety regarding the end of the journey since they have to go further, their station hasnot yet arrived and they fail to acknowledge that the departure has no come back. This seems that it is actually the story of a train journey, where fellow passengers never met each other again.The octagenerian besides me, sometimes break into tears and try to wipe it fast beacuse ultimately octagenerians don't cry. By the time rain has stopped, his eyes sparks with happiness, but that also dimished as his son interupted that he can't go for a walk since it is slippery outside. He went back in the same mood again  and beside him Jagjit Singh seems to be slipping in the same zone as the old man,"main zindagi ka sath nibhata chala gya" was continued on repeats until it gets discharged. And the oldman went into his mosquito net and slept with a hope to get up again, with the sun sparkling outside, with a desire to find out more people to talk, to laugh, to giggle.