Young and Old

As a child, I loved to read and grew up being thrilled by the usual stories about princesses who were beautiful and handsome princes who came to win or rescue them from dragons and danger. Whether the story was "Cinderella" or "Krishna and Rukmini", the bad people were always ugly or frightening while the hero and heroine were young and good looking.
Later on, real life taught me to understand that all that looked beautiful was not always good and vice versa.
Maturity also made me realize that though we regret the appearance of wrinkles and the loss, or greying of hair or deterioration of the toned bodies of our younger days, those same wrinkles and grey hair have their own value and interesting stories to tell.

I understand this especially because every day, I see the very old, wrinkled face and helpless body of my mother who I am taking care of in her last days.

When I see her motionless, swollen hands with disfigured nails and twisted fingers, I remember that those same hands gently soothed me as a child when I had asthma attacks. Those fingers sewed clothes for me on an old fashioned "Singer" machine, wove garlands of jasmines to put in my hair, cooked my favourite foods and even hit me hard when I was lazy or disobedient!!

The wrinkles on her face have all been written there by Time during a life of constant caring for a family and husband. Some lines appeared when she grieved for the daughter who died in childhood, others appeared when she worried over arranging our marriages, along with my father. She was always short-tempered and many wrinkles must have also appeared due to anger. Some more carved themselves on her forehead when I left home, first to hostels and then out of India for almost 30 years after I was married. She missed me, her youngest, though she was happy that I was married and well-settled.

Her hair was long, thick and wavy, jet black till into her late fifties. But now it is much thinner, fully white and sits like a silver cap on her head. To others, she looks like an old, worn out woman but to me all the above features remind me constantly of her devotion and her unstinting life, doing ordinary, small, everyday things, to make our family feel like a real family.

I sincerely believe that the wrinkles, faded eyes and white hair give her a special beauty even though it is not the same kind that is defined by hundreds of glossy advertisements for cosmetics, beauty contests or by those who are still young.

A few years ago, I noticed that my own hair was showing silver strands. I also observed that many relatives and friends of my own age-group are happily colouring their hair. Since so many better hair dyes are available, I was very tempted and asked my two sons whether I should go ahead and dye my hair. Their prompt and unified reply was:
"Amma, don't...you look good as you are and the grey hair makes you look distinguished!!"

And for once they were serious....not pulling my leg or joking with me like they usually do, quite mercilessly!
I have followed their advice and am also proud to follow in the foot steps of my Mother in this regard.

Like they say, age is really in the mind and you are actually only as old or as young as you feel.