Sorry, didn’t see you changing

Far from being a change agent, I might not even come across as pro-change. But I promise you, I am surely not among the anti-change brigade.

I have passively, meekly, mutely stood there as the whole world around me changed rapidly like in a time-lapse shot. Even my reflection in the mirror changed hopelessly. But I have remained silent. Not a word or act of protest thus far.

Change is inevitable, is all I say to myself.

Over the years I’ve even learnt to expect change.
Every time I see a bubbly girl jumping up and down with boundless energy and uninhibited joy, I just smile. In a few years she’d be married and all this would just be a happy memory.

Every time I see those ecstatic faces of exam toppers in newspapers, I sigh. The highlight of their lives is over at 16. Ever heard of a Class X rank holder winning the Nobel Prize?

Unfortunately, the most soothing line for the bad times- This too will pass – holds good for the good times as well.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not being cynical. Just practical. Life is easy when you go about it expecting everything to change.

I keep reminding myself that. Yet this one took me by surprise.
Never in my wildest dream did I imagine that there would be a generation for whom story-telling grandmothers would strike no chord and Maa ki daal and Ammavin sambar would ring no bell.

My radio silence after the last post The Grand Maa can be attributed to this shock revelation.
Those were things that I thought would never change until the end of the world. To think that they changed and I didn’t even know until now!
When did those change? How did those change? Why did those change?
I have no answers. What I know for sure is that they have changed.

Now when I look around it’s so obvious.
It’s getting increasingly difficult to figure out who the bride is and who her mom is at weddings these days. That mom might do the samba, but sambar? I doubt.
It is even more difficult to digest that the bride’s grandmother is the one with the backless choli. I closed my eyes and tried hard to imagine her telling bedtime stories. Not working. It was getting kinky.

Alas, it is confirmed. There is a generation gap that has crept between us.
To tell you the truth it is not grey hair, baldness, wrinkles or a paunch that I fear. It is the falling out of sync with most of the world that I dread.
More so because in advertising one gets used to taking pride in one’s ability to spot trends quicker that others.

Last night while watching these commercials on TV, I sat wondering if I would ever be able to think up insights like these:

Left to me I would have done something like Next best to mom’s sambar or Goes well with grandma’s stories, and fallen flat in the marketplace.

Wonder if there’s anything at all that’s too sacred to change.