By Vijay Phanshikar :
An old tired woman
deep in silence
rubbing her wrinkled hands.
- Haiku by
William Oandasan 
 

 

EVERY-day picture, this ! Yet, when memory darts back in time, emotions swirl up in the mind’s well. What follows is a train of mental pictures of the times gone by, of the scars left behind, of the marks of the momentous life ... ! True, when one is over the hill, aged with vagaries of life, wrinkles represent the road-map that one has followed. Each moment of life has a story of its own, a story most won’t want to hear -- since each has a similar tale to tell. The tale of life’s trail, of its fights and fears, of its trials and tribulations, of its gains and pains, of meetings and missings ... ! So, that is everybody’s tale, so to say.

 

So, no one is interested in hearing one’s own story from someone else. So, when there is no one to listen to what the old tired woman wants to tell, she rubs her hands -- in frustration, in exasperation, in isolation, in mental commotion of lonesomeness. So, that is an everyday visual, so to say -- of an old tired woman rubbing her wrinkled hands. The young may not understand what that actually means. But in time, when the young become old, and when hands develop not just wrinkles but also tremors, one finds oneself rubbing hands almost involuntarily. That rubbing of hands is a symbol of life’s recall -- the recall of the times that have gone by, beyond a recapture, behind the current moment. Of course, in the world of cosmetic good looks and goodness, wrinkled hands may appear ugly. Way back in 1922, Margery Williams wrote her classic story of ‘The Skin Horse’: “It doesn’t happen all at once”, said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept.

 

Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.” When time has slipped out of one’s wrinkled hands and one has nothing else to do except rubbing those, others may not appreciate what may be happening. But, what time has done is wonderful; He has turned the tired old woman Real. Then nothing else matters -- no matter the reality that none may want to hear her tale.