Naresh’s grandfather Mr Madhav Jaipal was a social science teacher at a local government school and a theatre artist; he was not only popular for his talent as an artist but also for his nature in helping people by finding them jobs and also providing financial assistance in emergencies.
Time passed as it always does and people pass away too, with names of some remaining for some time or long after them. The Jaipal family remained known in the area because of Mr Madhav Jaipal. The entire neighbourhood knew them. The Jaipal’s took great pride in telling people that one could ask anyone in the area about them.
It came as a surprise to 63 years old Naresh when his nephew Aakav told him that, “I asked for directions to your house at the sweet shop near the bus stand, but he didn’t know who you were, I also referred to your grandfather but the shopkeeper still remained clueless.”
“That’s not possible,” said Naresh and the next day he made sure to walk to the sweet shop himself. He had visited the shop since he was small, there was no way the owner couldn’t identify his name or his grandfather’s.
Naresh entered the shop to find a man in twenties sitting at the counter. Naresh could not identify him.
“Where is Mr Aatmadev?” asked Naresh
“Grandfather is at home, I look after the shop now a days,” said the man
“Grandfather? Are you Anoop?” asked Naresh
“No, I am Devak, Anoop’s younger brother,” said the man
“You don’t recognise me? I am Naresh Jaipal. You must have heard of my family or seen me come around here,” said Naresh
Devak tried to recall a bit afraid of offending an old customer, but his expression said it all. Naresh stepped out of the shop and looked around, and this must have been the first time he realised with open eyes that they were gone, most of them who carried the recognition of familiarity. Waves of time had slowly erased many names from the shores of life.
It was time for more names to come to prominence. Naresh took a long breath and stepped back inside the shop, there was no way he was returning home without a box of sweets.
Written by Anuran Chatterji
Waves of Time
Early Morning Memories 
2 responses to “Waves of Time”
What a beautifully nostalgic and reflective piece! Anuran Chatterji captures the passage of time and the fading of familiar names with such gentle poignancy, making the reader truly feel Naresh’s realization. A heartfelt story that lingers.
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lovely tale again : )
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