50 years is a long time.
Living together for 50 years is a helluva long time.
It speaks of immense patience served with generous dollops of love, sacrifice, ability to fight odds without giving an inch and garnished with respect for each other.
It is an achievement which everyone does not have the ability to reach.
On the 10th of July 2016, my parents just did that. They completed a journey of 50 years of roller coaster married life full of the proverbial ups and downs.
Being their only child I had the privilege to share 47 of these glorious years – and it has been more of a joy ride than a bumpy one for me, thanks to the cushion laid out on my pathway by my parents.
Maaaan, am I lucky and proud!!!
On the 10th when I was asked to speak on the occasion in front of a gathering consisting of family members who had gathered to celebrate the occasion, I found myself at a loss of words. After all, what do you say about someone to whom you owe your existence and sustenance. Does one eulogise? Or wax eloquent on the relationship high points? Or does one recount the golden days of the childhood? Or even joke about the rare differences of opinion?
You do not thank or speak to the pillars of your life. You just hug them and hope to hold on to them for your entire life.
So, I took the easy way out. I just let my emotions take over. I said mighty little, most of which was incoherent babble.
But hopefully people understood that I meant nothing more than the following:-
‘Ma and Baba, may I have the honour of being your child for all my subsequent lives?”
That sums it all I guess.