Elders rock?

Of course elders rock.
They always rock.
Not because they are actually great, but because we look up to them . In fact , books can be filled with the jolly and not-so-jolly follies of our elders . Some are hilarious , some quirky and some , a few , in fact , quite positively evil. For death and distance (read time) can deify their dottiness, but they remain fragilely human .
In fact , memories and reputation of some are so fragile , that a bit more of rocking could shatter them, irreparably.

An uncle of mine , after a childhood of running barefoot in the paddy fields, decided that he had to crack the matriculation exams . He , of course , overdid his efforts; family folklore says he stuck his science notes to the toilet doors , in order to not waste the time sitting on the thunder box too, and stuffed formulas and logarithms into his cranium, even as he moved his bowels . The efforts paid off. He topped the state that year and was commended by the president himself.
But the stupendous effort took its toll, and he lost his marbles . Taking a liking to number twelve ( a class he never cleared ), he made it his motto, the talisman , the auspicious number. Problems started when he would ask for twelve rotis with twelve pieces of curried potatoes, or catch the bus number twelve even when it took him in a direction diametrically opposite to his destination. Last he rang up , was to inform that he had been burgled and all that the thieves took were twelve notebooks full of class twelve notes.

Another uncle was a born looker . Not in the handsome , masculine way , but in an entirely feminine manner. He would dress himself in the wet saris of my grandmother which he would be entrusted to put out to dry on the roof. If caught in the act, not only was he cuffed on the ears, the sari would be washed again , and this time he would spread it on the line under the watchful eyes of a very cross grandmom. As he was her brothers son, she decided to take him under her wings , and "teach " him a thing or two, and send him to college too. I remember lot of feminine garments disappearing during his short and lively stay at our home .His cross -dressing preferences antagonised even the stubborn good samaritan my grandmother normally was , and he was unceremoniously sent back home , his bags bulging with burgled blouses, which my granny in her magnanimity , chose to turn a blind eye to.