Reminders of Ageing

Every day we age, but we are not conscious about it, unless something, someone reminds you about it.  Today, I checked my ''real age" today on a website:  realage.com.  I am 58.1 years old, 2.8 years younger than my calendar age, so, I feel good, despite being obese.  

 

My childhood on-wards, I am  an Anna (elder brother), I have two younger brothers and three younger sisters.  Around 18, I was called a ‘Master’, because, I did some private tutoring to kids in the neighborhood.  At 24, I was called a ‘Sir’, why not, I am now an Assistant Lecturer at a University.  I did not think these salutations had anything to do with my age.  They were about what I did or who I was. So, none of these made me feel that I was getting old.  

Then the thunder struck.  At 26, I was at a super market in Texas.  I was not used to supermarkets in Sri Lanka.  We did not have them those days.  I needed some help.  I walked to a young shop attendant and sought help.  She was probably not the right person to answer my query, but she wanted to help.  She had to call for her supervisor to help me on their PABX.  She announced to the world that a ‘Man’, needs help at aisle whatever.  The young boy inside me was killed instantly, and a man was born.

Years went by, my friends had children, who would call me an Uncle, that’s OK, and they were only 3 or 4.  Then I had kids, who call me dad.  Its a pure joy.  

 

Life went on till 50, my salutations were recycled as I changed jobs, till I was in a bus in Coimbatore, India.  I was not steady, because of rapid accelerations and breakings.  An old man – well that’s what I thought – got up from his seat, and said, Periyannai – ithile irungo (Elder brother, please sit here), in typical Coimbatore Tamil.  That was very kind, but I am now an elder brother of someone almost my age.  Not a good feeling.  A few years ago, in a Delhi Bus, a man almost my age – well may be a few years younger, called be Bapu – Father, and offered his seat.  Days and months passed by, I became used to being called chacha (Uncle) or a Bapu, in Delhi.  I smiled and accepted their greetings.  

Everything changed when I traveled by a suburban train in Sydney, only a few months ago.

 

I sat in front of a couple, whom I readily recognized as South Asians.  They were about my age, I thought.  The man smiled, I reciprocated.  He then initiated a conversation in broken-English.  Now I know that they are from Pakistan, own a jewelry shop, travel to different countries each year.  They knew that I am from Sri Lanka, but settled in Sydney.  

He wanted to know more about me, and asked for my age.  I said I am 61.  Mashah-Allah, (an Arabic phrase that expresses appreciation, joy, praise, or thankfulness to God), he said and paused.  Then he completed his response by saying that in Pakistan, that I would have been dead by now (or something to that effect expressed in words and gesture of being dead).  I did not know how to react.  But more and more I think about it, I think I should be grateful for being alive and in a reasonable health.

Is ageing such a bad thing?  We get tired quickly as we grow older, and we are more and more impatient, I think.  We are set in our ways, and have difficulties making adjustments to others around.  Younger ones – my siblings, students, subordinates, who looked up to me and sought guidance, do not need me anymore.  Thank God, they can take care of themselves.  Their priorities and needs have changed.  That’s the way it should be.  Still at times my ego is hurt because I feel ignored, I must admit.  Then I talk myself out it.

Recently, after meeting with two childhood friends after 35 years or so, I feel ageing is not bad after all.  If I was able to do many things when I was young and was  happy doing them, I am now able to recollect those fun-filled days and again be happy.  So, as I aged, I am glad that I have accumulated many pleasant memories.  They include various reminders I received as I aged.