On Getting Old!

 For the longest time, I’ve appreciated the system in western countries of children moving out of the parents’ home to make their own. So it matters little to them whether they have a boy or a girl because they know both would venture out of the folds eventually, to carve their own niche. Parents are mentally prepared to live alone as they age. 

While in india, the craze for the boy child continues because he is the ‘budhape ka sahara’ and the daughter is ‘paraya dhan’. Businesses crave for an heir, aging parents look upon the son and his children to pass their time with, women continue to make adjustments to suit the patriarchal arrangements. 

I realized the idea had taken roots in me too when we thought of renovating our ancient house and then took a step back, musing why to bother when Seeya would move on to her own home some day. Or when we began to dread old age because there wouldn’t be the constant chatter of children around here to light up the hush quietness of our everyday. 

Too set a bird to mold her ways now. It’s not the age itself that’s scary. It happens quite silently everyday - Fine lines here and there and the absolute intolerance to loud music. Bah! It’s the insecurities that build up along till they feel like a heavy stone placed with a thud over your palpitating heart. 

You’re not young enough to begin again or silly enough to be distracted by a frivolous lifestyle. You’re just there, withering in bodily strength, forgetful in mental abilities and tired by soul. Or at least that’s how the future seems to be when I rise up on my toes to see. What looks beautiful in your thirties, becomes tiresome in your forties and downright fearful in your fifties. 

Tch! And you thought, not looking stunning anymore was the only bother! When G and I look at an old couple, struggling with their bags at the airport or trotting behind a galloping coolie at the railway platform, we rush to help with THAT feeling in our heart. All that pride of youth, almost fringing on vanity, how tragically it begins to melt! 

When would we learn to not hold on to children but propel them to fly away? Aging gracefully and not just in the face. The self love that the new-age keeps harping about, how crucial it is to cultivate it, so that we do not depend on external sources to feel alive and happy. Repeat after me - I am enough. I am blessed. I am happy. And will be. Amen!