Like a clock that keeps on ticking, the old man had left his life behind. He was an active researcher in his prime.  His life had his own rules. He took no political appointments for any government post, although he was a suitable candidate. The reason was his philosophy of simplicity and unfaltering ethics. Now, he looked older than his age, but his face had a radiant glow. His cheeks were shiny, he had a large forehead, he had defiant eyes, no bald spot, and the double chin on his face made him look like he could pronounce heavy words with ease. He looked like a don with his authoritative white moustache.

The old man loved his family more than his own long academic career. His ill wife needed to be fed by his own caring hands. The old man walked in silence on his own lawn, he did not step walk on the road. There was not a slight tinge of sadness in the old man. He was always confident in his appearance and mentality.

The problem with the old man was not his age, but it was his contemporary awareness of the world. The old man had a philosophy of life. He believed that we can understand the value of life when we don’t shut our eyes to other people’s suffering. In the society he observed, rich kids have no value for money. One should not live in the bubble of happiness and should study the real world. That left a deep scar in the old man’s heart too. It was like someone planting a poisonous tree just to sit under its shade and relax—he saw the world falling apart. The awareness of the world came through News on TV for the old man. He was spending his retirement.

Confrontations can be too shattering if it threatens our life long beliefs. Old Man’s son lived in a different country. He was modern and liked to speak up about the matters that dared to offend him. He had a different lifestyle. He wrote poetry, he played guitar, loved to travel, he smoked what he got and what he shouldn’t and seemed more artistic in his approach to life. He did not like 10-5 job schedule. Aron, his son, was the opposite of what the old man represented. But Aron was home now after completing his English language and Journalism degree and everything in him was about to change.

When Aron would be reciting his poetry, his dad would be worried about watching the news of floods around the country or in the world. His dad never concentrated on his poetry. Aron felt like arguing at the top of his lungs, and he did argue sometimes that his dad was not paying attention. Aron said news is a structured content that delivers unfortunate events, we must also pay attention to what we want to do. The real world needs our participation and we cannot always hide inside our home—the world needs us more in its fractured places.

“Why do you keep on watching the TV?” Aron asked his dad.

“Look at the real face of the war going on, you should watch too,” the old man said.

“Don’t think I am ignorant, I am also aware about the world, we use mobile, why don’t you get one?” Aron told his dad.

“Talk to me instead of listening to the chatter box, or focus on your academic work even after your career is over,” Aron told his dad.

The old man gave expressions that spoke silently about how uncaring he was to the things that he used to care for. Time speaks to us in silence, we keep ticking like the clock and become a mute bearer of life. A trail stretches like a deep belief until it is erased like a mistake.

“Why are you worried about what is going wrong in a different continent?” Aron said.

“We still need to carry on with our lives here, we cannot stop living,” Aron said to his dad.

“I am going to report Ukraine and Russia war,” Aron said to his dad.

The old man was silent and a dark gloom settled on his face like dark clouds in a stormy sky. He wished his son wasn’t going to Ukraine as a journalist.

Aron said to his dad again, “the world needs us more in its fractured places.” 

“We cannot shut ourselves in our homes,” Aron added.

The old man felt his walls shaking. He was afraid of the rebellious spirit of his son. The old man had forgotten how rebellious he was when he was away for his PhD degree in a foreign country. He left for 6 long years leaving behind his newly wed wife after the day he got married. He never contacted his wife or family and kept on doing his research. Some relatives who had gone to visit him at the university spread the message that he was alive and doing his research—otherwise, his wife, father and mother back home would never know where he went and what he was doing. Thanks to his scholarship, it saved his life. He was rebellious because he was so engrossed in his research, against societal expectations.

People define life in crazy terms. They get attached to the things that seems dangerous. There is no common contract to list life as a most secure and safe project.

“A ship is safe in harbor, but that is not what ships are built for,” Aron said. He was quoting this idea by John A. Shedd.

The old man said, “Your purpose can haunt you if you do not love your life.”

“Staying alive is important. Don’t be an escapist who wanders from one place to another,” the old man said to Aron.

“I want my purpose in life to be fulfilled, I don’t care if I die in the process,” Aron said to his dad.

“That does not make any sense,” the old man said.

“What will I do with purposeless life and secure living?” Aron questioned his dad.

“How do you think you are getting the news broadcast on your TV?”

“While you sip your morning tea, someone is doing the goddam job for you,” Aron confronted his dad.

The old man listened to his son in the pensive hour. He flipped to the next TV channel. He was only capable of offering himself a change of mind.

For a few days silence whispered and climbed up to the room of the old man like veins. Each person leaves behind own trail. The old man knew that. Somewhere deep inside like a praying voice, he was proud of his son. His son wanted to die for a cause. And the old man had always known that, but his trail was different now. He was living a retired life, and time had changed. With the advent of technology and globalization, the horse could not be stopped in the modern racetrack. The trail that the horse leaves in the racetrack is a bet against life. Still, the appreciators clap with a thundering victory.

The old man was aware about the changing world. His method was different from that of his son, but they were on the same line to understand and contribute something to the world. This came like an inner voice to the old man and he did not communicate it with his son, directly.

The old man used to walk on his lawn and it had left behind a trail. The grasses where he walked regularly were erased and a lane got made naturally. His son was curious about it and he started to walk on that lane. His son felt the energy in that lane. The trail was small, it took one nowhere beyond one’s home. However, Aron felt his father had a secret in that small lane. He remembered when his father taught him how to walk. His father had left his hand when he began to tread in a faltering manner. But the steps became firm as Aron was propelled forward. Childhood spoke in experience unlike the arrogance of young age. That’s what home does, it gives birth toyour wings so that you can fly in the face of the storm.

“I am going to experience a new world out there,” Aron said.

“I had always been a part of that world, but coming back to you I found my inner trail,” Aron said.

“Well, life is a long walk, son,” the old man said.

“The inner trail will give you confidence, when tough time drags you,” the old man said.

“I have a flight tomorrow morning,” Aron said.

Aron left for Ukraine, his dad was proud to see him every morning on TV. Rest is the story of a journey of a young man who found his trail. The trail that took him around the world.

Sushant Thapa (born on 26th February, 1993) is a Nepalese poet from Biratnagar-13, Nepal who holds a Master’s degree in English literature from Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, India. He has published five books of English poetry, namely: The Poetic Burden and Other Poems (Authorspress, New Delhi, 2020), Abstraction and Other Poems (Impspired, UK, 2021), Minutes of Merit (Haoajan, Kolkata, 2021), Love’s Cradle (World Inkers Printing and Publishing, New York, USA and Senegal, Africa, 2023) and Spontaneity: A New Name of Rhyme (Ambar Publication, New Delhi, 2023).