This photograph in my phone’s album inspired me today to write. For those who enjoy the art of storytelling, please do give it a read.

……

As the two elderly gentlemen stepped out for their customary evening stroll, they found themselves once again facing the familiar horizon bathed in a soothing bluish hue. They settled onto the same weathered stone pillar that, over the years, had become a silent witness to their daily conversations.

Seated side by side, they discussed the latest updates on their children and grandchildren, as they did every day. Tales of a lurking leopard in some far corner of their village were also delved into, with half fear, half fascination. They recalled their days of youth that now seemed like ancient history and shared the same old anecdotes and jokes that they laughed at with the same glint in their eye as if they were hearing them for the first time. The visit of Modi Ji to Uttarakhand also took center stage in their discussion. They expressed their thoughts on the political landscape and the changes they had witnessed over the years, from their prime to the twilight of their lives.

They reminisced about the days when they could race up mountain slopes without gasping for breath and now found themselves taking frequent breaks just to cover a kilometer! As they sat there, they took note of how the world around them had transformed. The smooth, paved road beneath their feet had once been a rugged trail cutting through dense green forests. The solid stone pillar that supported them had its origins as a massive, ancient rock that had slowly drifted from its original place. The panoramic horizon, now dotted with signs of habitation, was previously just a dense forest.

As one of the old men reached down to pick up his fallen HMT wristwatch, a quiet realization settled between them. Time, silent, relentless, had been shaping not only the world around them but also their own lives. That small, ticking object felt like a reminder: no one escapes time’s gentle tyranny.

And yet, in that shared moment, there was no regret, only acceptance. A quiet understanding that while time may have shriveled the body, it leaves memories untouched. And in those memories, laughter still echoes, paths remain walkable, and two old friends continue their evening stroll, unchanged in spirit.