Nostalgia; an alluring state of human sentimentality wherein
the thoughts of an individual are teleported back to the
extinct and ecstatic moments of the past. Something, as
small as a dusty pencil, left under the wardrobe, could
spiral you back to those days of timidness, when,
you refrained from approaching your childhood
crush. A clamoring child, a tricky teenager
and an evolved adult possess expanding
amplitudes of memories, while a shrinking
elder, drifting away from the niceties of life,
is bombarded with those forgotten
memories by a sentient scent
called

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Guilt; a delicate stigma of remorse that differentiates humans from animals. The phobia of guilt is hardwired in hospitable humans that they refrain from pursuing an immoral road. Relationships hoist the most relevant guilt. An elder, having treaded through all the music of life, gazing at a vintage photo of her deceased partner, feels the most intolerable guilt as she gulps down the possibility of that argument she could have avoided, his quiet patience all those years, her meaningless tantrums, his warm touch, her wrathful words and his kind eyes browsing through her sinful spirit. They become more susceptible to illness and death when they wander through the guilty lonesome corridors of their broken relationships.

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A dire fever renders our taste buds futile. We quiver and groan at the convulsions, burying ourselves in layers and layers of chivalrous blankets while swallowing flavorless foods. The sweetest taste of our realm, is explored by us during those vulnerable hours, a taste so nectarous and exquisite, so sensitive and compassionate, a taste called 'kindness' of our parents.

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She smacked her red tinted lips today,
As an evening crawled away in Bombay,
The eye liners inflated her beauty,
The room smelled funky and fruity,
The mascara thickened her eyelashes,
She flinched at the memory flashes,
Retracing the lipstick with an eloquent trim,
Perfectionist by birth, she did it for him,
After the cosmetic display of artistry,
She opened a book as big as a registry,
The grainy pages had started to wear away,
Memories dwindled too, in a dreary decay,
She gawked at him, they met today too,
In the book, where memories turn anew,
After an hour of serene soothing sob,
She swirled open a mirror doorknob,
Her tears had tarnished her elder outlook,
One of the major cons of that photo book,
Her heaved breaths grew, she racked,
At the only cosmetic that was intact,
The vermilion remained radiant and full of life,
A symbol of him, her life as a widowed wife.

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Communication; a distinct skill of human beings that aids them to carve their inner horizons in their partner's mind. Those, deprived of oral anatomies, emit their feelings by a set of vivid hand gestures that amplifies in its magnificence the more they communicate with each other. A mute elder, who has treaded through the rails of life, meticulously dances his arms in the air while conversing. The speeches, whispers and compliments slides down slowly as a relationship progresses in normal couples. A mute elder couple will defeat a normal elder couple any day, in commitment, in patience, in understanding, in integrity and in compassion because they embrace their inability while we call her 'childishly talkative'.

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A crestfallen day can evaporate away easily by tiny gestures of compassion. Physically impaired persons and elderly folks demonstrate it everyday. These fragile beings desperately search for comfort and glee by evaluating their surroundings. When you lay a sensitive glance at them and aid them, out of the blue, in one of their daily chores, they'll fling their facial muscles, tinkle their foreheads and land a beaming smile on you. Such a smile, that originates due to exceptional kindness, clings to your thoughts and ascends you into a deep serenity for a long time.

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An elder woman stuck between the quiet walls of an old age home knows that her death is hovering over her, but her wrinkles would converge, her forehead muscles would wiggle, her inert arms would jerk in motion and she would land a beaming smile towards a younger stranger for she too was an energetic child, a shy bride and an emotional mother once.

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"*Some people are there to stay in your life not in Heart ❤️💓....."*

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आकाश के नीचे ही आसियाना होती हैं।
बड़ो के चरणों में ही सही जन्नत होती हैं।

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