Dear President Barack Obama,
44th President of the United States of America, Nobel Peace Prize winner 2010, and my kid brother in the global village. Do not be upset by my calling you my kid brother. I am an octogenarian. (An Indian Octo lest it be misread to stand for Paul The Octo, i.e. Octopus who predicted the outcome of Soccer 2010 Final)
I am not looking down on my juniors, breathing down from the cliff of Vaikunda, the Indian Mount Olympus or Mount Kilimanjaro that you know more about. When I utter the K word, my mind goes to the African empire that preceded the British Empire where also the Sun did not set.
Dear Obama, age is the India Olympian Mount, the Kilimanjaro summit for people like me. It is fascinating to climb upward. But we know aging is truly a climb down. One day me, others like me will go down, fall over the last wall, into the abyss, the dark or lighted corridor-hole of space-time continuum of which the British Stephan Hawking speaks in his book: A Brief History Of Time. On a sudden all of us will go under the earth. Even the babes being born on planet earth on all continents, rich and poor will go under the earth in hundred years, unless there is breakthrough in Life Sciences, resulting in “Methu Selah” clinics and tonics and tabs available for a price in the market.
Or unless Bio Technological editing of DNA using enzymes of plants can prolong longevity as Gerontologist, author of “Ending Ageing” Dr Aubrey De Grey dreams. Let us recall that Methu Selah was the pet theme of George Bernard Shaw.
I talk like a scatter brain with no focus like a gand bull’s eye for breakfast. This is as an Indian I am trained to be a scatter brain, even as much as we, Indians are trained to cultivate Yoga and Yogic mind exercises.
We are indeed trained to say Neti Neti (No, No) to every statement. In order that we