As I tucked my grandparents to sleep, last night, a rather mortifying realization struck me. As I soundlessly moved out of their room, having switched off the light, given them their medicines, I turned to take an assuring glance. But for a moment I found myself, standing and thinking about something which had never occurred to me before. The silence in the room with the faint hum of the fan felt so deadening. Suffocating. Panicking to me. For a minute I wondered how do they kill this silence.
Almost simultaneously it struck me, how do I kill that silence in my bed? Then it occurred,when in bed, I usually lose myself in the thoughts of what I would become in the future. How many people would find sense in my words. What might she/he be doing. Would I ever get the chance of travelling to those far off places. How much money would I need for that university or how exactly would my grades turn out. Would I be able to pursue writing and media at the same time. And many more similar thoughts and dreams of a life that lies ahead, full of chances, possibilities of miracles, turning points and twists. Love, hate, friendships. Destiny. It occurred that the silence in my own room never becomes loud enough because of the endless voices in my head telling me of this and that. Asking me of goals and life ahead.
However as I stood there, for those slow n sluggish seconds, placing myself in my grandparents’ shoes, I found the silence excruciating. I rattled through their empty minds, whatever they had dreamed of had either been achieved or drowned as another burnt hope. They had no aspirations for the other day, no drive, no goals? Except for how many medicines to take at what times. There was no music in their head for the upcoming mornings which could quieten down that silence. Their current thought being of the rheumatic pain in the knee or that infection in the eye. Their mind worrying about this night to pass uninterrupted by the drudgery of walking to the bathroom three times before dawn. They couldn’t really dream anymore at this point of life. It was too late to dream about the future. Nightmares of the present were really what seemed to be left.
The point is not to associate old age with such horrifying images but the truth is the spectrum and scope of dreaming really reduces after reaching a certain age. Despite being a believer in the fact that your age is determined by how young you are at heart, I still cannot deny the tiredness, pains and diseases which come along as our bodies strive to survive for more than 60 years. The only reason of writing this is to bring forward that feeling of horror I experienced standing there. It was immediately followed by a sense of gratitude over how blessed I am to still be able to dream. To look forward to the other day. To be able to think about how many different things I can do. I know how counting your blessings lecture goes so clichéd but honestly, think about it for a while. Even being able to ‘dream’ is something so underrated because we only tend to whine about how they don’t come true. And how many have already shattered so far. We almost overlook that even to look forward to something, whether we achieve it later or not is a blessing to be grateful for. I don’t think I need to drag on too long with my words here, I believe i have made my point. Do think about it before going to bed today.