Despair is watching your loved ones grow old.

My dad is all of 73 years. And he's beginning to grow painfully aware of it. I can see it in his eyes, the stoop of his shoulders. His knees are giving out, and despite the doctor's orders that he should walk and climb stairs as much as possible or the fact that he follows those orders to the tee, he still can't do it without wincing. For a handful of months now, he's been gradually losing his hearing. Now, he strains his left ear to hear.

He's been retired for years now, but has found a new job - accompanying the driver to drop my mom to school. And i think he looks forward to it every morning and afternoon, even though he mumbles under his breath everytime he has to shake off sleep to do it. It gives him something to do. Last Saturday, i accompanied him to pick her up. Dad always locks up after everyone and comes downstairs, taking each step slowly while we're already downstairs, Red's engines revving. He locked up this time as well as i went downstairs and sat in the car, and we were on our way by 12 p.m. We first went to the mechanic's for a quick check-up of Red, headed for her school and killed time while she finished locking up the school and kicking everybody out, and then went to Grandma's.

I was shocked to see my grandmother; her cheeks had hollowed out, her face and body were beginning to be mere skin and bones. I felt something squeezing my heart and making it beat anxiously. What could i do to stop the process? What could i bring back, how could i make it better, what could i do other than visit her more often? We spent some time there, went shopping and returned home at around 6:30 in the evening.

Dad was slow in getting out of the car, Mom was busy directing the driver to not break any of the stuff that we had shopped for, so i ran up the stairs to the first floor with the keys in my hand to unlock the grill that guards the doorway to the house. Usually, when we go out, we keep the door unlocked but latched, and just lock the grill because that's heavy-duty enough to give miscreants a very hard time at breaking and entering. This time was no different.

When i reached the top of the stairs, though, i stopped abruptly. The grill was wide open. The lock hadn't been put.

I couldn't breathe for a full ten seconds, and prayed with every ounce of devotion i could muster that the inside door be locked. This was because sometime earlier, somebody had unlatched the inside door from outside the locked grill and mom got all freaky and insisted that the inside door be locked as well, if we were missing for long periods of time.

So i moved towards the inner door, unlatched it, and pushed. The door swung open inwards.

It would be safe to say that i was momentarily lifeless as i went into system arrest and the colour drained out of my face. The house had been left unlocked. For six and a half hours. Enough time to rob us clean without any trouble on a sleepy Saturday afternoon.

I ran in, quickly scanning every room, looking under beds and diwans, behind doors and in the balcony, on the terrace stairs and in the kitchen passage to make sure there was nobody hiding. And then i checked everything else. My laptop was untouched. The TV was still there. Mom's jewellery was intact, and so was mine. Nothing was stolen. Phew.

When dad came upstairs, i asked him about the unlocked doors. A look of total bewilderment - how is it possible, i had locked it... didn't i lock it? - replaced by irritation momentarily, and then sadness. Anger at himself.

He was crestfallen. He came in, still wondering how he could have been so stupid. He beat his forehead, and he was close to tears. He just sat there on the diwan, and concentrated on blinking away the tears shimmering in his eyes, not letting us see that he was really worried about his memory going. Slowly, quietly leaving him. Deserting him, leaving behind only forgetfulness. Emptiness.

I couldn't take it. I can't take it. I can't. First my grandmother, now my dad. I'd rather die before all of them than see them go through this transition.

I hate you, Cycle of Life. I loathe you.