I stepped out with my wife recently for an evening walk, armed with umbrellas. The clouds threatened to pour as I reluctantly followed her for a quick stroll through the fair set up within the complex. We were still at the fete, digging into savouries, when it started raining. I stopped myself in time from blaming my wife for our predicament. I was different in my younger days.
I would happily cycle through torrential downpours while returning from school. We would float paper boats down the drains, drenched by the falling drops, to see whose boat would move the farthest before sinking.
I was also adventurous. One afternoon, a friend and I decided to explore the world around us from the top of the colony water tank. It took us some time as we cautiously stepped up the iron ladder. Our efforts were rewarded by the most beautiful view as far as the eye could see. Soon, it was time to climb down. We were scared as we gingerly moved from one ring to the next, trying to avoid looking down. Years later, I went on a trek with three friends through the mountains. We spent nights in a log cabin or inside the hut of a nomadic local community when we lost our way due to dense fog. We even ran through a hail of falling pebbles during a landslide. The adulation we received at the hotel was enough to give us a high.
My wife narrates similar stories. She was in a Delhi hostel during her college years. She and her friends once travelled on a DTC bus late in the evening to get autographs from their favourite cricketers. Those were the days when the city was not considered safe after sunset.
My wife is still fond of exploring new places we visit, even late in the evening. I reluctantly accompany her only until we reach a lonely stretch of road, after which I fidget so much that she is forced to turn back with me. I would much rather explore a new place in broad daylight than deem it safe in the dark. Caution crept up on me with such slow, padded steps that I did not even realise it. It might have been due to the gradual increase in my professional and family responsibilities. I may have carried the weight of maturity too seriously. It could have been due to the increasing intolerance within society. It could also have something to do with the slowing down of the body with age, and the accompanying aches and pains. I avoid walking on wet roads for fear of slipping and breaking a few bones. I am afraid of getting drenched in the rain, apprehensive of catching a cold. All of us occasionally need relief from the daily stress of life and a chance to relive the adventures of youth. My wife and daughter recently took an alternate flight to Chandigarh when their direct flight was cancelled. Thereafter, it was a seven-hour cab ride through the rain in the mountains.
They reached the pottery workshop destination at ten in the evening. She felt liberated by the workshop and the mountain drive in the rain. It is not that I do not seek new adventures. They have simply transitioned from the physical to the metaphysical. Age does not deter me. Adventure comes to me in different forms. Travel, learning new subjects, diverse experiences, even efforts to keep my body fit are the new quests. This is my way of remaining young at heart. I have understood that ageing may have slowed our bodies, but the heart remains young as long as we hold on to curiosity and the joy of discovery.