It was morning of January 26, Thursday. A healthy breakfast and a fresh after-shower feeling, bask with music, jumpstarts my school day with invigoration. As I was about to go for school, Grandma at her old age yet young heart calls my attention. “Where did you put the key of the dirty kitchen’s cabinet?” With an accusing tone, she pleaded. “You’re the only one who used it yesterday”. “Indeed I used it yesterday, but I properly returned it to the place where I found it.” I retorted, half-calmly. With a mixture of finality and assumption, she bursts. “It wasn’t there. Go, look for it.”
Embarrassed and without any further ado, I directly proceeded to the decaying dirty kitchen, which served as a dog kernel at day and a bulwark of mice at evening. There I found it right below the protruding nail where we hang numerous keys, stealthily. I was a poor victim playing guilty that supposedly great day. That very event resorted me to bang my door for them to realize that a single glance is inadvertently not enough, and that for what she have done. I’m wounded as if a palooka hit me. For others at my age and probably older than me, it is just justifiable and fair. It is just my anguish expression. But my grandma desperately throws foul language and provocation. I beg for apologies for the wrong done and that I made it clear she was only hurt next to mine. My uncle, who was eavesdropping my grandma’s version, bellowed, “You have to bear the brunt no matter how it hurts you” Ouch….
People at old age are definitely wisdomic. They are the one whom we rely to. Most importantly, they are closer to the hands of our Maker, as closer than we do. They already spent half of their life teaching and learning. Like my grandma, she is at her very pinnacle of knowledge who taught at public schools for almost half century, became a school principal, district supervisor and a college professor, who have read thousands of broadsheets, magazines, self-help books, listened to thousands of music- of any genre, watched thousands of movies- of any kinds. She traveled whole of the country and absolutely she is into all walks of life. I never missed a single word of her phrases which gave me lessons. But she just failed to stress a single detail considering that she scarcely listen to me, your fellow youngbloods. When she talks oh c’mon she does all the talking. I’m always there listening even tough how formulaic and kilometric. It even made my neurons go crazy. But sometimes I can take it no more; I entered my room reading classics instead. When it comes to her tender, loving, care- she never ignored us. That is the bright side.
On the dark side, the tyranny of the old is indeed like a sphere possessive enough to encircle our very foundation against our own longing for independence, own self-paced learning and our thirst for the challenging world outside. They failed to listen to our longing and suffering. They failed to see the incongruity. If otherwise, maybe they are so imposing not to learn by what they have heard and not to realize by what they have seen. Good for you who are freed from your grandma’s tyranny. My case here is different. And I believe that there are more youngbloods out there who are under the mercy of their tyrannous elder relatives.
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