THE QUEERNESS OF AGEING

This piece isn’t about the making of wine. Howsoever egoistic it may sound I have to confess that it is about me. We use the term ‘ageing’ rather loosely to suggest getting old as in an opposite to coming of age. Now when it is almost 52 years since the day I was born, I wonder whether I should or could place myself into the ageing category. Why should I or why should I not? Either ways, I am not clear about it. Permit me to elaborate on my confusion.

The ageing process intrigues me constantly. The question that often arises in my mind is what exactly is meant by ageing. Do we really age and how do we age? How does it feel on an experiential level to age? Can we be aware of this process, see it happen on a minute by minute chronology. The various aspects of ageing too baffle me. Is ageing a physical, mental or a psychological subject, can we age in relationships or even experience, does ageing mean more knowledge and wisdom, is ageing becoming infirm or getting better, maturing, does ageing mean tiring, does ageing equate to disinterest in the world around and starting out on religious or spiritual journey. Is ageing a journey? Where does it lead to, are we aware of this transition, would there be a destination where we can finally say that we are no more going to age. Is ageing merely a change in properties taking place spontaneously on its own wherein we don’t have any control, whether we like it or not. There are several such questions that crop up in my mind when I ponder over the thought. I am still seeking answers.

Soon after becoming aware and being able to remember events, growing up in the rural outskirts of Margao, the constant memories of my childhood have been open landscape, walking through greenery, trees of cashew and mango, and Hindi songs in the afternoon on radio. These images are stitched together with emotions of blissful calm and peace of childhood, feelings existing prior to the competitive teens, those before fear, hurt and anxiety took over. Today whenever I see visuals of open and green landscape, whenever I am in the midst of huge trees, or whenever I hear a Mohammad Rafi or a Lata Mangeshkar, I find myself transposed into the body of the young boy, seeing things from his small eyes, touching things with his tiny fingers and remain transfixed at the awesomeness of the beauty around. I still explore as I used to, wonder at the stories that the trees are telling me about other wayfarers, imagine how the rock came to its present resting place, wonder whether man appeared before or after the mountains came up, contemplate on why all these exist in the first place. I listen to the tales that my mind conjures up and smile, laugh and get bitter with its twists and turns. When I tread on a forest path or sit under the shade of a tree, I wonder whether any saint has done the same before. I become the same kid, we are one again. Age becomes meaningless and the connect between the two of us is electric, welded together by lightening right at that moment. How do I justify ageing, I don’t know what that word means.

As kids we didn’t have a wristwatch and distance was always measure in time. So to reach the playground or a friend’s house would be measured in terms of time it took the sun to reach from say a 40 degree angle to 30 degree angle of the eye. We either hurried or went leisurely depending on the position of the sun. We were not permitted out to play when the sun was right above our heads. Then returning home would also be measured in the time it would take the dusk to convert into darkness. This self-training of childhood still stands the test of time, is still foolproof and not dependent on the power of the batteries inside our wristwatch. I still abide by this gut feeling and try to guess the time on my wristwatch. There are many such learning from the childhood, for instance how to distinguish the good man from the bad, how to select fresh vegetable and meat, how to predict whether it will or won’t rain immediately, how to tell whether my body is ready for a game, a workout or it needs some rest, how to tell whether I am going to be sick or whether it is a passing feeling and I will be better in a few minutes. These internal decisions were never taught or explained and I have never come across them in any book in all my adult life readings. How do I accept that I’m ageing?     

As a small boy, walking half a kilometer, would take a pretty long time. The same place when I walk today doesn’t take all that much time that it used to. The immediate question in my mind is whether the PWD has cut off some parts of the road that existed long back. I see no other explanation. My feet are the same because I have been seeing them for the past several decades. Then how did the time reduce.  The perplexity is internal, in the mind. The question is raised by the kid and answer too is sought from the kid. The present 51 year old man isn’t credited with a better understanding than that of the 5 year old kid and this is factually true. Wonder what the fuss about ageing is.

Physical changes in my appearance have always been there and as long as I can remember. Over the years I have seen my weight and dimensions change back and forth. Hair has disappeared and appeared at different parts of the body. Physical internal pain has been a constant companion of this body and it has only altered its place of residence time to time. A cut or bruise always drew blood and swelling whenever and wherever they arose. Several habits of the body like sleep, food intake and excrement of waste remained more or less the same. With the passing of the years, things have remained the same even when they have changed a lot. The body has this innate ability to recreate simultaneously as it extinguished. The mechanisms inside the body create new cells as soon as it loses existing cells. At some stage or point in time, due to both physical and psychological reasons the body mechanics and functionalities starts to slow down and eventually stop. This stoppage is death and can happen at any age. This death can happen suddenly as well and also be brought about by external factors. We should always strive to lead a healthy live and ensure protection and care for the body at all times but whenever death comes there isn’t much that we can do. Death therefore cannot be linked to ageing. What then is ageing, the question persists.

The concept of ageing is not without its benefits though. Some people bracket those whom they consider aged as respectable. They are accorded extra sympathy and more often than not treated with kindness. The expectations from the elders are considerably scaled down and life becomes stress free. These low hanging fruits are very attractive and tempting and most of us give in, earlier than required. My predicament is that sometimes I find myself still continuing to reside in my childhood. People have entered and left my life, I have seen and experienced many events and they have left varied impressions of joy and sadness inside, but the desire to grow up and become responsible hasn’t sunk in or taken over completely. At times I can’t understand why certain things are happening in my life. Good or bad, I haven’t grasped ageing as yet. It’s rather queer.