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Col IPS Kohli (retd)
A COUPLE of months back I turned 60. After greeting me on my landmark birthday, my wife said: “You must now behave like a senior citizen. You could make an appropriate beginning by muting your misplaced enthusiasm.” I replied that nobody is as old as the one who outlives enthusiasm. Mute it and become old? No way. I have turned 60, not old. My wife retorted that along with a grey beard she wished I had acquired some wisdom too. “I have the wisdom of colouring it every week. It’s a great anti-ageing agent,” I said. She shot back: “The problem is with your lecherous soul and the hues it is dyed in.” So on and so forth went the banter on my 60th birthday. It was time for a reality check — what are the gains, other than senility, when you become a senior citizen.
I realised it’s a win-win situation. The otherwise tight-fisted government showers a great deal of benevolence and largesse on old fogies. There were a host of benefits that I was not aware of. Only Air India, in line with its reputation, had shifted the goal post. For them, you are a senior citizen at age 65 to merit a discounted ticket. As a frequent traveller to the Capital, the benefit I found of immediate use was a hefty discount on rail travel. ‘Executive Class’ appeared affordable. After retirement, I had come to terms with CC (‘Chair Car’, euphemistically called ‘cattle class’.) At the first opportunity, I boarded the Executive Class of Shatabdi to Delhi. Upon entering the coach, it appeared I had entered an old-age home. More grey and white crowns than black, with a few bald pates as well. The elegant spouses too had flecks of grey and silver.
It was a coincidence. Those seated close to me were retired forces’ officers. We don’t need to be introduced. It’s written all over us. The train had barely moved when an attendant arrived carrying a sheaf of newspapers. He offered a publication to the elderly person sitting next to me by the aisle. A stiff upper lip quivered in disgust. A publication sympathetic to the woes of the forces was accepted. Breakfast was served. The same person held a napkin like a CO inspecting napery. A look of disapproval was written all over him. “Is napkin pe stains hain, doosra lao.” The coffee was not hot enough and the juice too cold. I heard somebody else saying corn flakes “ko crush kar ke lao”.
Why should old age be the exclusive preserve of cribbers? It is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter. Somebody said age is just a number and best forgotten. To keep the heart unwrinkled, remain cheerful and actively occupied. You can make a beginning by fetching yourself a drink.
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