Registrieren

As I find it a little more difficult to get out of bed each succeeding autumn morning, my mind (what’s left of it, that is) inevitably wanders to thoughts of ageing. The process is very gradual and kind of sneaks up on you: the cells stop multiplying but continue dividing, not unlike the BJP; the telomeres stop communicating with each other a la Mr Gyanesh Kumar and his two colleagues; the joints protest loudly like Mr Kejriwal at any sudden move; the memory starts playing tricks like it does frequently with Donald Trump; and one begins to speak like Shashi Tharoor i.e. in words that no one understands, certainly not my sons, nephews and nieces fed on the two-syllable patois of Twitter and Instagram. So slow is this process, however, that one is not even aware of it.