अजर होतें हैं दोस्त।Age doesn’t get to take its toll on them. In any case, not the usual toll. So yes there’s the thinning and graying of hair; yes there’s the little paunch and some face-fat; and yes there’s also that whisper of an odd wrinkle. But to our deluded eyes, none of these changes appear integral or intrinsic. They seem more like cosmetic add-ons. It’s like a case of amateur photoshopping where the supplementary touches clearly stand-out from the originally picture.

I try to make sense of the phenomenon and an explanation eventually comes trickling in. It’s a simple sounding explanation which may really not be so simple. You see, we don’t perceive our own ageing on a day to day basis. Similarly - provided we’ve been in fairly regular touch with them - we don’t perceive the ageing of our friends.

Good for those old codgers then!

But wait, there’s also a flip side to this phenomenon of the warped-perception . I illustrate with an anecdote.

The incident goes back by about a decade. There I was, putting up at the residence of this very able ( and decorated!) officer of the GOI. He had some important field-work early in the morning and the previous night had been a late one. So not wanting to disturb me, he left a message that I was to join him whenever I woke-up and was done with breakfast.

I distinctly remember spotting him from afar as our car approached the designated meeting point. He was instructing a flurry of junior officers and appeared in total command of the situation. An aura of competence surrounded him and his very presence evoked an assurance for the safety of the city. Nothing could possibly go wrong. Batman was watching over Gotham.
And then something strange happened. As we got closer and I was afforded a clearer glimpse of him, Batman’s mask fell off. Suddenly, there was no officer to be found. All I could see was a youth who had a penchant for quirky dance-moves and witty one-liners prefaced with copulatory verbs; a youth who was prone to at first resisting participation in the outrageous plans his friends hatched, and then abetting those very plans with even more outrageous suggestions of his own.

No. I’m not saying that I’m not proud of my friend’s achievements. I absolutely am! In fact, while talking about him to others, I tend to subconsciously appropriate those achievements as my own. And yet, the tentatively obstinate wisecracking dancer tends to prevail.

हमारे रेगिस्तानों की कहावत है: No man is a hero to his valet. I guess no man is a hero to his good friends either. But yes, in that second instance, he gets to stay young. As I said, अजर होतें हैं दोस्त।

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The beautiful chimneys and caves of Cappadocia come with historic appendage. Legend has it that early Christians - in order to escape persecution at the hands of the pagans - built their secret churches in these very caves.
As we check out the cave churches at Göreme, we come across a fresco of ‘The last supper.’ I ask young Anshuman Jha whether he knows the name of the disciple who betrayed Jesus. He doesn’t, he tells me; but he would be willing to guess if I gave him some options. The wife is of the opinion that if he can’t answer straightaway, options wouldn’t help either.
Not that one likes to contradict the better half but this is too good to let go by. Hence, I lay out the options before AJ. “The disciple who betrayed Jesus was
a) Banwarilal
b) Kailashchand
c) Judas “
Guess what! The boy gets it right.