When I was in twelfth standard, we were taught a poem at school, ‘My mother at sixty six’, by Kamala Das. The poem is about the fears of the poet, which she felt looking at her mother’s dull and pale face. The sudden realisation that her mother has grown old, and will not be with her forever, makes the poet a bit uncomfortable.

When I first read the poem, it was just another chapter of the syllabus which I had to study to score good marks in the exams. But, today, something happened that made me realise a lot of things. I saw my father holding a glass of water. His hands were trembling. And all of a sudden I could picturize not just the set up in which My mother at sixty six was written, but also the pain the poet must have felt while writing it.

Do you know what causes shaky hands, especially at an older age? I, unfortunately know. Sometimes, it’s easier to move on if you don’t know certain things, and I wish I didn’t knew. That strange feeling when you start hesitating to call your dad to pick you up, because you know it might not be good for their health. When you know, your mom isn’t making you do certain things because she wants to teach you, but simply because she just cannot do it on her own. When your parents falling sick is not just a random excuse to take leave from college or work, but actually makes you feel scared. It’s sad. It’s annoying. I don’t know any other words to describe this feeling or maybe I just don’t want to use harsher or more realistic terms.

Sometimes I think I’m feeling this way only because I don’t want to take responsibilities. Maybe I just want it going the same way it was. Living a carefree life, under the shelter of my parents, just how my childhood was. But it’s not totally correct. I am okay being the responsible child but, I still want someone to hold my back. Someone to correct me, to scold me.

What is even weird is that, the only thing that makes you feel a bit relaxed from these feelings is the thought that you too will go through this phase. Just a few more years, and you will be in your parents shoes and your children in yours. This is how it has always been.

Kamala Das in the poem tried to distract herself from these thoughts by looking at young trees. I will try that too. Young trees, young saplings, new buds, new flowers, another dawn , another day.