Uncle Poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph

I am walking on the Marine Drive as is my wont
Every morning, when I hear some shouts,
Which is usual, Indian streets being noisy:
I kept walking, but repeatedly one word
Penetrates my ears; it is coming across the street
In front of the residential block of NCPA
From the other-side of pavement at Nariman Point.

After a few moments’ resistant persistence,
I turned across to the face the direction of shouts,
And found a group of teenage boys and girls
Twenty-somethings with all pairs of eyes at me,
Calling out to me across the street,
Uncle, uncle, uncle, uncle… “Please take our photo”.
I crossed the street, and froze them and me in time.

I have been son, brother, bhau, friend, young man,
Respected Sir, etc but never an uncle for public.
It came as a shock this Station where the train has arrived.
Not that I thought I would not grow old, not at all.
Well did I know about change and time and getting old.

But with all that knowledge,
Awareness of passing time,
Graduating to be uncle was a surprise.
It is one of those defining moments,
Behind which I cannot go now.
That was a different me then.