• Battisputali, Old Baneshwor, Kathmandu, Nepal
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  • ageingnep@gmail.com
  • Call for Papers 2015

    Call for Papers 3rd Issue of Population and Development Journal 2015

  • World Azheimer’s Month 2014 pamphlet

    pamphlet World Azheimer’s Month 2014 pamphlet

  • What Older People are Saying?

    You were our future

    We made you last long

    You are now present

    And we are not the past

    In the last leg of our journey

    On your field, we are ageing gracefully

    Give us what we humanely deserve

    We took pride in raising you, my child!

    Gave you all we could

    Never looked and asked for a reason

    Not even once!

    Now the tree looking for reasons

    Why the gardener and the seed on which it grew?

    Mesmerizes the gardener,

    And the seed decaying under

    The seed and the gardener

    Go deep in the past, reflecting

    “We are proud of you, my tree!”

    We have always been giving and you have been receiving

    That has been our relationship since the making

    It is for your better future that we are praying

    Allow us to help you,

    We never ever calculated the cost of raising you

    The feelings we valued in praising you

    We saw our rewards in all your gains

    Your single smile healed all our pains

    For the human rights that we fought

    Now you are enjoying, what we taught

    To stand by your side, we are vying

    Give us some space,

    You knew how to please us

    When you were a child and had to buy a toy

    How come you now need to “investigate”?

    To know what we like, my boy!

    Yes, we are the very same persons

    Few years older than before,

    Our likings and disliking

    Are the same as yours.

    As if aliens we have become

    On bed we lie sick and unattended

    See us as the same persons as before,

    Our longevity is our earning

    It is not your gift

    The longevity we have earned

    On to you it will be shifted

    You will live longer, my child

    Some pains may become mild

    The pain you too will have to live

    But I wish you have child beside

    Company of own children

    Make all pains more bearable

    Ensure that for me and it will be the same to you

    Raising you a child was not a challenge

    Rather we felt blessed

    We thanked God for the responsibility He entrusted us

    We enjoyed, and in no way we felt stressed

    For all the fairness,

    How did we become your challenge?

    Manage your parents, my children,

    Now that I am old, I can be so bold

    With no greed, no fear; let the truth be told

    I gave my undivided attention and dedication of love to raise you all

    You are raised high, do not let me fall.

    True, I forget things but not the feel of love

    I can’t stop loving you and wish I could be loved

    My needs are few, almost none

    Please love me once and forever till I am gone

    Please be patient with me, for I haven’t long

    For this life of you and mine, the pain I am paying

    Give us what we deserve,

    Krishna M. Gautam

  • On Old Age

    Have you and I really tasted

    The last of our summer wine?

    And are the only years left now

    To be spent avoiding the pain of age?

    You have seen how it is

    With a dowager friend or two we know.

    The wrinkled brow you kissed

    To make it feel better creaked

    With a wildly imagined flu and what not.

    When in all the fact

    Is sadder than a child’s stillbirth.

    The evening’s long now and so

    The sap rises, the weather’s fine

    But we can’t taste the summer wine.

    (P. S. Summer wine is of course a kenning a label substituted physical passion)

    -Greta M. Pennington Rana 

     

  • Virtues of Alzheimer’s Diseases

    Memory loss too has its blessings Always new are the things
    New are the times, places and events New are the family and friends

    Fresh are smells, sweet or bitter are tastes Always all new, knows no rest
    New is the vision and new is the belief New is the self, if ever found!

    -Krishna M. Gautam