A gradual glance at things was soothing off my eyes, that the apparently slight sunlight filtered in through one of the rooms, putting my gaze on a thing that has lived in the house for generations, that has been adorned with many respectable lives in the history of my family, a thing called great grand old armchair.
The wooden armchair, as the sunlight fell on showed a glimpse of dust on it and the polish coming off of it. The great grand old member of the family losing its sheen gradually, but continuously.
As I looked at it, my reminiscence of the past glory of the chair. It has always been the hot seat of my grandparents and was extensively taken care of by the family members. I remember my mother once told me at the time of my great grandparents no one was allowed to sit on it except my great grandfather and every important decision in the house used to be passed through that throne. I wondered at my mother’s words as during my time there was certain leniency as I used to spend happy moments on that chair with my grandmother. Also during my childhood days, the seat was more metaphor of love, care, and respect than the authority; a sign of certain democracy indeed.
But as I grew up I migrated with my parents to the city like other family members, leaving the chair and the grandparents behind. The authority and the social behavior of the chair got severely affected along with that of its owners. The older one now needs to take care of the chair themselves. There was no one to be ruled above, to show love, care and affection for, there was no one to be social too. As the regular care to the chair declined, it started deteriorating. Though the daily sunlight, the only hope was continuously showing off the deteriorating condition of the chair, the old owners were losing the capacity to take its care and the young ones were losing the utility of the chair in the gleaming shine of the new world, their own world.
And now with my grandparents no more, there is this chair lying all vacant, looking out of the window without any hope of the owner to return. I went close to the chair touching its arms, feeling the life in it. I cleaned the chair got it polished again. The chair started shining again, happy at receiving a social hand. I took the chair with me giving it a respectable place in my city’s home. The new hands taking care of the chair, but related one is now shared, talked to, and pictured with new faces. The chair, though shared by many is now more social, less rigid, and more valued. Valued for its originality, for its antiquity, and its grand experience.
Looking at the chair it suddenly occurred to me that the existence lies in change, but not in the change of the core, the base. Time changes and so the environment, needs, wants and some values. But the essence of life lies in the fundamental values of life the bedrock of one’s life. Existence lies at the confluence of change and permanence. And so is the essence of a cooperative, harmonious and peaceful life taking the generations together, thus leading to a developed civilization, a social civilization.
