“Forever Young”

Saurav Karki

I learned to make time stand still. I can control it. I often say this to my buddies.

They recognize the humor in it. I attempt to elucidate so they won’t need to inquire as to how or why.

Every time I clarify, I add something new—for genuineness! for authenticity! Such freshness, in my opinion, makes authenticity more interesting. I mean, some fresh examples. They should find it interesting, shouldn’t they? I am always conscious of it. But I’m not sure.

Sometimes, I get surrounded by a bunch of descendants of some common relatives. They belong to those relatives who used to visit at least on major festivals, as long as my grandfather of the house was alive.

“Are you older or younger than our big brother?”

From the same group, a sister inquired.

“I’m not exactly sure about that. If I’m, I’m barely six months older than him.”

I halted my laughter.

It was not difficult for me to respond.

It doesn’t take me long to think. I’ve been trained to react in this way these days.

I let my pals know. I share my wits. They merely giggle.




I was told about a “Cosmetics Uncle” by a buddy. His youth had returned overnight. How could a miracle like this occur?

He was a gregarious man and declared emphatically, “Cosmetics!” There was the same shine on his face as we used to see in his prime! On top of his head, a wave of hair was there—the recognition of his beauty, the representation of his youth. Our uncle, who sells cosmetics to youth, and the necessitates, I believe, share some philosophy. He actually sells hope. He competes as well.

To whom?


Actually, all those who challenge his youth!


These ‘Uncles of Cosmetics’ are held in higher regard than those ‘Beauties of Cosmetics’ who, even in their youth, depend on makeup to look attractive.

We salute him.

They serve as society’s motivation. Aren’t they?

I wish they could lead us all indefinitely.

I expanded on what my friend said.

He nodded a “yes.”


A few days ago, one of my friends from my university unexpectedly approached me on the street.

With such joy, he greeted me as he passed by.

After a few conversations, he surprisingly asked me.

“How come you look younger than before?”

“You seem to be a college student,”

“Bro, I’m not that old.” It hasn’t been that long since I graduated from college.

“What do you think I should be?”

Just like that! aged and lied! aged and died!

I looked curiously into his eyes.

Don’t misunderstand me at all! That’s not what I mean.

He apologized.

“No, no, don’t be; I was trying to be humorous.” By the way, I feel really happy about your words.


He had his eyes wide open.

Fantastic, you too!

I grinned.

Am I unintentionally adhering to the “Forever Young” philosophy?

Do my friends follow it as well?

A few of them look like me.

I thought once.

I have frequently questioned my loved ones and friends about it. They merely exchanged words. Nobody had come up with a phrase or words to ease my feelings.

Many times, I came to the conclusion.

In fact, we appear to adopt the “Forever Young” approach to our behavior. We don’t want to consider these days whether being “Forever Young” is a choice or a compulsion. Our first instinct is to use reason to attempt to solve such a problem when it occurs.

Me and my pals have made a common narrative over these years to satisfy our emotions and eradicate unnecessary concerns.

We are all a bunch of unmarried herds; God knows why! stick together with the statement. We would like to proclaim that our mind is doubtless and our thoughts are so pure and crystal clear.

People primarily age into one of two scenarios. One of the circumstances is that they are entirely organic and purely natural, and they may be more dependent on food and their level of care. Purely social comes next. People are constantly made to feel older by the younger generation. Parental aging occurs as sons and daughters grow up. “Forever Young” refers to the person who makes it through these two scenarios.

We laugh together while conversing and have similar values. Like this, we argue.



There was an old man who often interrupted our conversation.

Interestingly, he was not interested in our talk.

The old man interrupted our conversation again, and I detested that.

It’s his third encounter.

‘Do you realize how utterly devastated he is? I wish I could connect with him.’

‘Whom was it addressed to?’

My friend made a query.

‘I mean, if despair and frustration had a face, it would look just like him.’

I chuckled.

I was the only one who laughed.

That was fun for me.


My friend had questioned this old man a few minutes ago.

‘What is your age, sir?’


“Forty” was his response.

Our eyes faced each other, wide open.

Our mouths may be wide open as well.

We were both smoking.

‘Do you think that’s true?’

‘How come?’

‘How in this world could he claim to be forty years old?’

‘He appeared to be getting close to sixty.’

‘Don’t you think so?’

I asked my friend.

‘I find it rather astounding as well, hmm.’

‘Or perhaps he means what he says.’

My friend added.

‘Your thoughts are so pendulum.’

‘How are you able to say that?’

I fixed my gaze on his eyes.

He smartly laughed.

‘Perhaps he doesn’t subscribe to your “Forever Young” viewpoint.’

He made fun of me.

We chuckled together.


I broke the stillness and brought up the same subject again a few minutes before announcing it to my friend.

‘I’ll ask him for sure the next time I see him.’

“Do you feel old, sir?”

‘Oh, you really ought to question him.’

My friend agreed with my proposal.



One day, a friend of mine tells me he’s losing hair.

Perhaps his concern is that he will be expelled from our group.

“Is this common?”


‘So, are you feeling like a bald man these days?’

‘Please, don’t make a wit.’

Though I still mocked.

‘Are you afraid of getting kicked out of our group?’

“Forever Young” Group!

“Are you still following our philosophy?”

“Forever Young” Philosophy!

Do hell with your philosophy.

He seemed so furious with his statement.

He seemed so annoyed after my statement.


Another friend of mine, so bald at his young age, never complains about it.

However, I discovered something horrifying and excruciating concealed inside his heart.

‘No hair might be a major reason for not getting you married. I think so.’

‘No, I don’t think so.’

He corrects me all the time.

“I believe there’s another important factor at play here. Perhaps I am just very picky. I am sure I have not found anyone most suitable for me. I have to keep looking till I find the one.”

I was astonished.

“Do you want a beautiful wife?” I asked him.

Indeed, without a doubt. I’d adore to marry a lovely woman.

All I could do was smile.

You will definitely get a wonderful woman one day, my dear friend.

I speak out loud in my head.

He didn’t hear.


Now that it’s just the two of us, my friend and I, we always enjoy our philosophies. We are the two living, breathing offspring of this concept that existed before our very eyes.

There is nothing like ‘Forever Young’.

However, there is such a thing as anti-aging.

Or perhaps some people have such exquisite genetic makeup that it appears as though they age artificially.

Or maybe some people mature too slowly.

It’s also possible that some people age too slowly.

Guess! Are we content to be young for years on end?

Yes, by the way, there is a half “yes.”

In the beginning, my friends and I would always lament our youth. We were so young, that strangers used to regard us as their little brother or as someone so insignificant and unimportant in their eyes while we were in front of them.

“I hated that.”

“We hated that.”

Naturally, as time passed, young boys far younger than me addressed me as their peers, saying things like, “Hey, bro, take a chill pill.”

“I enjoy that.”

“We enjoy that.”



Sometimes, it won’t take too much time to ruin your feelings. To doubt your philosophy! To question your ideology!

One evening, me and my friend were dwelling in a park. It was a regular park. We know the stones and the mud very well there. It was only one and a half circles along the trails when we saw a bunch of ‘British Gurkha’ aspirants marching in front of us and quickly passing by us.

One of them, surprisingly, asked my friend, ‘Uncle, what time is it now?’

We were confused. My friend paused for a moment and looked around.

That boy again repeated the same question, smiled, and then laughed.

Again, my friend paused.

My friend answered impulsively, “I haven’t worn any watches, my son. See?”

He tried to pull his sleeves up. But it didn’t go up.

The boys all laughed.

The passersby were all confused.

I laughed, too.

So, nervous and calm, my friend laughed too, with a faint glow in his eyes.

“Few years later, may be two or three, I bet that boy will definitely address me, like, Hey, little brother, what’s up? or what time is it, bro?”

My friend added.

‘Let’s hope.’

I added.

We both laughed.