The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well sav’d, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again towards childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound.
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| Source: gaia |
His fingers were too accustomed to punching buttons. The
slight touch and brush on the screen seemed complicated to him. He carried it
around as if it were an antique piece of crystal, afraid he might damage it. He
couldn’t understand why everyone took the trouble to get hold of them. The
funniest thing was how they called it ‘smartphones’, for he felt if anyone were
smart they wouldn't buy such touch phones in the first place.
“Trust me, dad, this one is way better! You just need to
get used to it.” He was told repeatedly, and this was the only reason he still
kept it. After all, how could he dispose of a gift from his own son? So he rubbed
his fingers on the mobile screen everyday and discovered that it was indeed
interesting. For it would surprise him with each brush of a finger...randomly calling some old friend he’d lost touch with, or displaying the live cricket scores,
or sometimes even showing the weather conditions in Chicago…if only he’d been
living there!
He’d sit in his rocking chair with those heavy round
spectacles on. The newspaper; his oldest friend, would be by his side. It always told him of the
ever-changing world, and remained unchanged itself. He hoped it would survive in this growing digitized world.
His reverie was interrupted by the slow, trudging footsteps
he was so familiar to. There was a creak
as the second rocking chair in the room was occupied.
“Any new accident calls today?” asked its occupant. He shook
his head, his not-so-smart phone (as he liked to call it) in hand, “No. But what’s this? I see myself. S'that the
selfie camera they talking about ehh? Looky here!”
His partner craned her neck from her chair to get a
better view. The screen froze with the two of their pretty, wrinkled faces.
“Ha! We took a selfie!” he exclaimed. “Let me see it.”
She said, putting on her own pair of spectacles. Holding the phone gingerly,
she peered at the screen only inches away from her nose and broke into a laugh
too.
The two rocking chairs creaked in a homely rhythm as they tried another selfie. His life had become dull after retirement, being all about daily chores. But there was just one thing that he always loved but never confessed - her company. And this togetherness was something he cherished very much.
In silence and companionship
Peace he had found.
His age was last but one
Ahead was one more round.
***
This post is the sixth of a seven part series on the Seven Ages of Man (from Shakespeare's 'As You Like It')
Read all Seven Posts -
1. The Infant
2. The School Boy
3. The Lover
4. The Soldier
5. The Justice
6. The Pantaloon
7. The Second Childhood
Linking with Write Tribe's Festival of Words for a Seven Day Blogging Challenge.
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