Yesterday while looking simply at those resolutions floating about, adrift across mind-sky I realized that they were
1. fewer in number
and
2. paler in colour.
What happened? I am 47!
My own conception of 47 years is that it is my uncle's age with me at 9. I have become uncle-like! That means I am eligible to make those wise looking gestures in people's faces and sermonize and advise people who need money to go by and home to live in. I am eligible to laugh with people of means while my nephew cringes in darker corners, little less hungry than folk below poverty line. Wow! Finally I have qualified!
But all that is happening today,in retrospection of my birthday yesterday.
Why were resolutions fewer? May be I have learned from past that they are not to be taken too seriously and gave up counting midway. May be resolutions themselves are intelligent entities: seeing the prospect of revisiting uselessly someone as incorrigible as I they sent a band instead of an army. Whatever it may be, they were fewer.
And they were lighter too. They were quite like Bhupen Khakker's watercolours: whatever depth the colour had was due to the supreme quality of the best handmade available.
That analogy makes my mental space of "the supreme quality", and although that is not intended, I keep the analogy for it describes well the pallid shade of my resolutions.
Why were they lighter this year? Have they given up on me? Have I not much life left in me? These are questions beyond my purview.The fact is, I have grown older by another year.
