In forty years I will be 78, which is way long over due for the life style I lead, the food I eat, the smoke I smoke and the drink I drink. I have always been a sucker for getting in and out early. Longevity counts in certain areas and I can hold my own there, but this is another ballgame altogether. I have always been one to live life and wanted to come in sliding sideways in to my coffin. No time for weepy farewells. Be done and be gone. Forty years seems inane. Never worked my mind beyond forty seconds, regretted it some times, but all in all I have done okay.
Forty years means my daughter will be forty seven and still as pretty as she is today, which is natural considering she has my genes. She will have lots of men running after her, for I would have shot each one of the earlier boyfriends. Which is sad too, but I don’t care. My wife, if she is still around, would be senile, or would have given up on me, or would have mastered the art of ignoring me and my constant complaining. Which in a way would also be nice, for I hate it when she answers back. Why can’t the argument ever end with me having the last word? My parents would still be around. Not because they have this magic potion, just because they have always been around. Any way so on the family front; I would be quite a content man. My career would have been over… I don’t have to wait forty years to tell you that, I am told, it’s just a matter of time.
Will I be flying? Yes Sir. You can bet your cute little bottom on that. Not only will I be flying, I’ll be flying in the most exquisite surrounds of the world. You may ask me for a ride and if you are really nice and can ignore that occasional gust of wind, pretending it was the old factory that we just flew over, well I might just consider taking you along. I may repeat one of those old anecdotes that I keep repeating with friends. But then I know you are so nice you’ll always pretend as if it’s the first time. So all you have to do is pretend and I’ll take you on a joyride of a lifetime.
Forty years and I would have retired from my professorship at some fine university. My students would have enthused minds, all because they had this opportunity to have been under my tutelage. Would they cross the road to say hello to this old fart. Who cares? In a world going so wrong, I seldom let stuff like this dwell on my 32 bit RAM. What matters is that we made things count in those forty minutes in class. How I loved my teachers and instructors who did that. In forty years I would have probably written a book or compiled all this stuff that I keep penning down from time to time and found a gullible publisher to do the needful.
Now the challenge part for all my golfing friends out there. I would have won at least one golfing tournament on stroke play and not stable ford. I would have been whacking those balls for so long, it would be time they started ending up in the right places. Will I still be yearning for some thing? I reckon I would want that Peugeot 407 Coupe that I saw the other day. Would never buy it even if I had the money. Would I be earning in dollars and spending in Rupees. That will be really nice. Will my age be past my waist? Yes I think so. I think forty years hence would be nice. Will I still long for a civilized world. I think for that we’ll need many a double score. Yet I hope I can be proved wrong in forty years. When I’ll look back after forty years would I say, Yes I would do it all over again? The answer my friend is blowing in the wind. So we all have forty years to go, starting tomorrow. Karma is what matters. Go live it.
