Those cruel twilight years

I was paying a visit to my dear nonagenarian  aunt who was suffering from old age diseases. She was a widow and could still remember her moments of importance long ago in Dacca and Kolkata. However, memories of  recent happenings seemed to elude her. She drew me close to her and whispered
" will you now reside with me in my house for there is still a big room kept locked only for you. These are the keys". They were tucked away neatly in her well - managed visitor to her flat would be greeted by the same request while tears rolled down her cheeks. She was oblivious to the fact that that she had long handed over the big mansion built by her husband,  a renowned civil engineer, to a promoter only to be alloted a few small flats was a very kind lady and wielded a lot of power since my uncle was posted outside of the state most of the  time. While managing    household affairs she would devote lot of time to studies as well. When she earned school and college degrees at unbelievably ripe old ages, it was a matter of celebration for all of us and the local press circulated such incredible feats widely for emulation. But alas the impending inevitable death seemed not to care a fig for her robust have closely observed this feeling of helplessness at the fag end of a life  during my service in Banks. While many such heartrending tales would require the entire space of this newspaper let me restrict myself to a few such incidents worth  manager of a nationalised bank my job was, among others, close interaction with the super senior customers, and  assuring them prompt and  personalised services. An well known octogenarian customer having an illustrious sporting record  would visit the branch and always ask me to sit by his  side on the sofa only to discuss his personal problems and seeking my help to withdraw money and return home safely. That his hard earned money was very safe in our custody was writ  large on his face. We could well realise much to our embarrassment though that bankers could only provide him so much solace and support  even though he had well established offspring and wielded lot of power and responsibility during his extra ordinary sports incident will remain ever etched on my memory. A gentleman of like age would often call me on the phone to ask " what is the balance in my account". Though  very polite the voice was confident and smacked of a British accent spoken with much clarity, which might only be expected from a person holding a high and eminent position. I could not but respond to his request without demur. He would then send a bearer with a cheque for encashment. But his signature at such a ripe old age had already begun to shrink  and we still shudder to remember having honoured such cheques bearing little resemblance to our records. It was, as it were, almost like a child's meaningless scrawl. Considering his  illustrious academic and service career we could not request him either to withdraw the cheque facility and take recourse to thumb impressions was very close to me and we shared  past experiences to our fill. He would contribute in these columns in the prime of his life. Another  example  of someone having a glorious past awaiting his destined end almost in desperation and helplessness seeking the bank's help in full faith when there was no dearth of close in The Statesman on