The Cup’s Full.

A couple of years back, I wrote a set of Etherees to express my feelings about death in old age and death in young age. Almost a year later, I wrote another set, a part of which is about the elderly seeking appreciation as (they think) they come closer to their end. A little over a year later, I am set to write another couple of Etherees on something that has been playing on my mind for some time. It is the impatience with which the young treat the elderly. As you grow older, you become less adept mentally and physically. Almost like a child in reverse. As I struggle with my expectations from my parents, whom I still see from the eyes of the little girl who thought her parents could accomplish everything, I am beginning to see how I might be a little too demanding.

Note: The first Etheree from the point of view of the one growing old, and the second from the one not yet in that stage when they count time.








Old bones ‘n’ limbs!

The youth calls out.

Unforgiving youth.

Scraps ‘f unwritten paper,

Rudderless with this imp breeze

They call inevitable season

Stack’d in neat piles after years ‘f habit.

Fie, there’s a mutinous bit askew. But shh!








Try to remember time is a circle.

That every step you take fills it.

I like your tread — undemanding.

Just walk with me, hold hands tight.

You see strange qualms approach?

You taught me calm, love.

By example.

Forget it.

I’ll wait.

Shh, love.





13 thoughts on “The Cup’s Full.”

  1. Thank you for those. As a boy, I was blessed to have a lot of older people in my life who I loved and wanted to be with. Always thought I would love the elderly, but lately, I realize how easily I become frustrated with my father, who repeats the same stories endlessly, and cannot hear well as he refuses to wear his hearing aides. I also become more afraid of the looming prospect of myself as an elderly person, and wonder “should i have the courage to check out before i become this feeble?” Yours is a reminder to return to the love and appreciation I had for the elderly when I was invincible and certain that old age would never catch up to me.

    1. It is easier to appreciate a person handling a weakness when you yourself are far from it, isn’t it? I never thought about it, but your answer made me think about my evolving reactions, and it seems that the older I get, the more impatient I get with the examples of old age. But, for me, it is so only in case of my parents. Perhaps I see myself in their shoes more easily?

      It is good to remember what we did as children, because, most of the times, the memories remind us of who we truly are.

  2. This reminds me of a time when I was small, and I was used to my grandmother’s slow pace, and I was comfortable with that. But only a few years ago, I became the exact opposite of what I was as a child. I was impatient with an ailing aunt of mine – I was used to her fitness and energy. And then all of a sudden, she was weak and complaining about walking a few steps. I wish I were more understanding of her…

    1. Do you think it is possible that you find it difficult to accept here steadily failing energy because you love her too much to see her like that? Accepting weaknesses in those that we deeply care for is a challenge! I suppose this is what I need to remember when I become impatient with my parents, and take this challenge up for its benefits!

      Good to see you (I like your gravatar) again. I hope you are out and about, exploring the heritage ruins, making worthwhile videos and writing about them!

      1. ‘Accepting weaknesses in those that we deeply care for is a challenge! ‘I never thought of it in those terms… I had a high regard for her – she was fiercely independent and her skills with the needle were beyond compare.

        It’s little late for me to make amends… my aunt passed away a couple of years ago… but perhaps she is still around somewhere, and understands.

        As for being out and about, I’m afraid I’ve hit the pause button on that… I did visit the Lodi Gardens recently, but didn’t write about it. Hopefully the pause won’t be for long πŸ™‚

        1. I have a feeling she’d have understood when she was here, too.

          I couldn’t visit the Lodi Gardens as much as I’d have liked to when I was in Delhi. You might take me back there, if you write about it. That’ll be enchanting.

  3. You’re right: time is a circle. As we move from childhood to adulthood, we grow stronger in every way. And then, unnoticed, the process begins to reverse itself. Your etherees are a helpful reminder that the vitality of youth is not permanent. Still, I plan to hold onto it for as long as I can.

    I like this phrase a lot: “…Rudderless with this imp breeze…”

  4. Lovely. It is ironic. As a child I was really frightened of old people. I mean…really frightened of them. Put me in a fast car or on a fast horse and I was cool as a cucumber. But put me in a room with an old person and I was ready to claw my way out of the windows. And here I am, undeniably approaching…nah…in those years. I still don’t feel it at all, but as I look around and see my friends dropping like raindrops from the sky, I can no longer deny that I will be one of those frightening, bleary-eyed, slow moving, elders. How could that happen? I really didn’t see it coming.

    1. When you sit in your patio, and the mosquitoes trouble you, think of all of the energy you have in swatting them away, or running inside. As long as you can bike and hike and run, you’re doing good. When you haven’t the energy left anymore to do all of that, there’ll still be friends and internet to keep you anything but bleary-eyed. Rejoice! Or so I preach πŸ˜‰

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