Grow old along with me...

“No, I am too old for that,” is the hackneyed phrase one hears in most homes. Well, even Buddha could not find a solution for old age and ended up preaching renunciation. Everyone is a Yayati in the depths of his heart, but alas, all can’t be that lucky.

I have seen quite a few old people trying their best to maintain enthusiasm and optimism in spite of deteriorating strength, thereby making themselves lovable not only in their family circle, but also among youngsters of the neighbourhood. Their rich experiences are made use of, valuable advice considered, (sometimes sought also!), whereas the grumpy seniors are shunned.

That old age is an unavoidable natural process is known to all. So, it is better we enjoy it by growing old gracefully, bearing in mind Tennyson’s words: “Old age has yet its honour and its toil.”

I remember hearing an interesting anecdote about a foreign lady. While going out to deposit the garbage every day, she would dress herself up and apply makeup and then set forth on the mere 10-minute walk, as though to a party! Her contention was: “This is one of the few times I go out; so why deprive myself of the pleasure of appearing attractive?”

Since the family set-up in most countries abroad is such that the old have to depend upon themselves, with neither self-pity nor grievance. Nowadays, they are becoming the target of road-snatchers, usually in the form of children sent out to grab their handbags under the pretext of helping! Hence, the old women are learning karate, it is said.

They are following the words of feminist-activist Betty Freidan: “Ageing is not lost youth but a new stage of opportunity, strength”. Hobbies nurtured during one’s youth also come to the rescue when old while potentials are unearthed, like in the case of Rabindranath Tagore who took up painting. Since communication keeps the mind active, computer is verily a boon! All this reminds me of Robert Browning’s famous lines: “Grow old along with me, The best is yet to be/ The last of life, for which the first was made...”

In older times, people resided close by, walking in and out of each other’s pockets — an advantage in times of emergency. Gradually, the ‘vatharas’, as they were called, gave way to ‘complexes’. With their numerous flats, communication became possible only on balconies or in lifts. With both parents at work, the presence of the elders to manage children became imperative, and when the need lessened, old age homes came into view.

This brings to my mind the tale of two elderly ladies who struck up a rapport with each other from their balconies. They smiled at each other, spoke through their eyes and gestures, and became such thick friends that they looked forward to their meeting every morning.

One day, however, a balcony was empty! Yes, one old lady had left for heaven. Unable to bear the loss, the other ‘balcony ajji’ became so agitated that she had to be shifted to hell — an ‘old age home’.