The Twists of a Burnt Rope

There is a big city in a big Western country, and one of its specific areas is a hub for South Asians.
One evening, a few desi bachelors were sitting together, engaged in cheerful banter. Nearby sat a middle-aged senior, having a serious expression. His simple, villager wife now somewhat unwell but still did her best not to let her service and obedience to him falter in any way.
Yet the senior often appeared displeased and melancholic. Seeing him sitting silently even now, a youngster mischievously addressed him:
Uncle! why don’t you get married again?
Uncle looked up with a start and let out a deep sigh.
I would, but now it's far too late.
Everyone burst into loud laughter and doubled over, laughing uncontrollably. A sheepish smile also spread across Uncle’s face.
In that moment of fun and merriment, who had the time to think that , a woman was facing a man who was confessing that his time had already passed. May be she isn’t too late after all.
But some people are like ropes — they burn, but their twists remain. Even though those twists can be undone with just a single puff of breath.