Value of an Old Life

My grandfather was born in 1932 which makes him now 78 years old. When he was younger, he was a teacher, and had a lot of students who often address him as Cikgu until these days. He was also the chief of the village, namely Kg Kuala Sentul. He always make himself helpful to people around him. If he heard of his friends fallen sick, he'd hurry himself to visit him for sure. If anyone's getting married, he'd always be the head of the march. There was a time when cars were not so common as these days, and sending your son/ daughter to the school which is outside of the village would be a predicament, he's always at the front, offering to send them no matter where they are as long as he's capable of. If there's anything going on in the village, he's the one you should refer to. Besides, he's also the imam and bilal for the masjid of the village. Say anything, he'd help it with a smile.

But now, he's heavily ill. He couldn't even stand up on his own. His skin is dried off, flaking and sometimes bleed if brushed against hard surfaces. His hairs started to lessen by days, leaving behind bald spots and dried off scalp with white flakes on the top. His nails thickened, makes it hard to be cut. He couldn't hold anything longer than 5 minutes, couldn't feel his button, couldn't even shave on his own.

At the noon today, me, my brother and my cousin took him to Jumaat prayer. He has already missed 2 previous prayers, so he couldn't bear missing this one. As we make our steps into the masjid, it has already full. Seeing two people bearing an old man, they made a way for us. Little by little, we made our steps into the masjid. In every step he took, my grandfather would grunt in pain. Sometimes tears would drop from his old eyes, indicating the pain that he suffers. As we walk through the door, my grandfather gave up a loud grunt. The whole jamaah looked at us and the khatib stopped his khutbah for a very short moment. It was Ok. But then, I noticed something in the crowd. People who were looking at us, they stare at us in three manner.

First, there was this group of people who gives us a sorry look. It means that they have their pity on us. I respected that. There's nothing about an old man that you wouldn't pity.
Then, there was this people who looked at us with a blank face. Perhaps they couldn't decipher the pain in the old man's look. It was ok. As they were, I didn't give a damn.
But when I look at the youth's faces who filled almost quarter of the masjid, they gave me this look. How should I describe it: Their left cheek would wrinkled, left eyes squinted, and their mouth would shape a sinister smile or if unfortunate enough, a laugh. Sum that all together, it would make a disgusted or cynical expression. Now, what message is that? This, I really can't understand. An old man passed by you and you take that as a funny joke to laugh about? Or is it some kind of new wave that you disgust about. Remember this young men, you will also grow up old like him one day. Do you or do you not want the same look given to you?

THAT'S ALL FOR TODAY.

Thank you,

THE END