I think I know my blog readers or well most of them. If I could take a stab, I would say the average age of Poohsden readers is 28-38. The age when wrinkles are called laugh lines and the color of hair is described as salt and pepper. It is the age when lot is taken for granted and a lot has been learned. It is neither the beginning nor the end. It hangs in there and reminding you life is beautiful and yet terribly unfair. Hatred snakes in with love and love turns into obsession. The purpose of one’s life remains as unclear as it was at 18 and you are unsure what life is all about. Maybe I am generalizing too much. I certainly mirror my feelings.

And at this age, I ask you – have you held a wrinkled hand in your hands? Watched the veins and arteries carry the blood of life and noticed eyes (many treated for cataract) filled with memories and untold stories look at you? If you have not – I suggest you do it immediately. Find someone, it might have been the hands that held you while you took your first steps, hands that sustain the most beautiful garden you have seen or hands that hold your favorite book – a random stranger or a familiar stranger. They would love to feel your youthful hand in theirs, listen to their stories and maybe you will pick up something. You will make someone’s day and will end up richer and maybe feel some peace fill you.

Wrinkles tell stories – stories may differ but they will tell you all about sacrifices, compromises, love, laughter and life.

Stop and feel the wrinkles

I am super lucky today, I will be holding the hands of my grandmother – hands that held me when I toddled, hands that taught me to write and roll a chapati, hands that taught me how to calm my colicy daughter. I will hold hands and we will celebrate 72 years of life, laughter, love, sacrifices and compromises.

Happy Birthday Mamai.