It had been some time since the morning had made its arrival. It was out there everywhere. It had even managed to creep in through the side edges of the curtained window. Mr Anand was a bit late to welcome it today though.

The sleep had not delayed his wake, it was rather his very own lack of will to do so.

It was his birthday. Another year had passed like the previous many years. He had never known his exact age. Actually no one did. Mr Anand found it hard to believe that on the day he was born, it had skipped everyone’s mind to make a note of it. What had exactly happened on that day, Mr Anand did not know and he may never. However, later his children who had grown up now, had decided to consider this very day as Mr Anand’s birthday.

Mr Anand stared for a while at the slowly moving ceiling fan, then he slowly raised his right hand and brought it in front of his face, blocking his view of the fan.
The vision was a bit blurred, but not enough to hide what his mind processed that he saw, it was the hand of an old man.

Mr Anand slowly got up and sat with his legs down the bed. His left hand reached out for the eyeglasses case on the side table. He took out his glasses, cleaned it with the cleaning cloth and then wore it. He kept the case back on the side table and just as he was done keeping the case. He noticed his hand once more. The left one this time.

The clarity of vision had only made what he had known, more evident. It was still hand of an old man.

However, Mr Anand tried to not be bothered too much with this particular thought, after all he thought he had made peace with it.

The day Mr Anand realised his parents had started growing old, the truth that everyone will, had entered into the world of his thoughts. Hence, he knew from then on, whether he knew his own exact age or not, it was coming, the time of the years gone.

The door to the room opened and Mrs Anand stepped in, she looked at her husband’s face and saw the expression of a man lost in deep thought. She went to the window and pushed aside the curtains letting the full might of the morning light enter the room.

Mr Anand woke from his subconscious at the sudden intrusion of the morning light and turned to look at the window and then towards his wife who was enjoying her morning moment staring outside it.

Mrs Anand turned to looked at Mr Anand and spoke, “The milkman hasn’t come today and we don’t have any milk at home.”

Mr Anand got up, “I will get some milk from the market.” He paused a while to recall his previous thought and couldn’t remember what it was.

As he opened the door to step out of the room, “Happy Birthday”, said a voice. Mr Anand smiled and turned to look at his already smiling wife. “Thank you… Thank you so much,” he said.

Written by Anuran Chatterji

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