Living is joy.
Crossing the half a century mark,is a task.
The most happening years are closing up.
The murmur “No time to stand and stare”,dies down.
Being born, growing up, attaining adulthood, graduating into a self made individual,getting entangled in martial tie up., bringing up children, making both ends meet,have effaced the self in a person
He finds time to look at himself,take care of himself,think of himself,only now.
His reflection is dubious to him.
Receding hairline, wrinkles around his eyes,sagging cheeks, a slight paunch,and a staggering gait, tell him that he is well over 50.
He finds it hard to believe.
“Really “!! he asks himself.
He stares at the mirror, once again.
“Mirrors do not tell lies.”,he mumbles
Bemused, he walks away from the exact replica.
He reclines in his couch.
He heaves a sigh .
Is it a sigh of relief?
“Definitely”, prompts his overworked mind.
Mostly all his compulsions are over.
The balance is a bonus.
He feels light, effortless.
He has to live for himself.
Now , he can get up late,
He can eat leisurely.
He can sip his tea, at punctuated intervals.
He can bathe longer, humming his favorite song.
He can read the newspapers ,word by word.
He can watch T.V.
He can listen to music.,which is soul stirring.
He can take a walk, devouring the beauties of nature,
He can make friendly calls.,and socialise with his neighbours.
He can take things as it comes,without much anticipation.
His life is his own.
An age of transition has set in.
Hi, Mr.54,
Enjoy, Excel.Enrich
Meenas Poems 