Becoming a senior citizen

This is a forward-looking post; looking to perhaps 6 or 7 years ahead and, this is crucial, dreading it.

I dread becoming a senior citizen. No, it is not the usual panoply of reasons of not being dependent on others etc. These are more like the burdens forced upon you by others and you yourself, once you become or at least reckoned to have become a senior citizen. One clarification: I am talking about senior citizens and NOT Senior Citizens, that is, as defined for availing special benefits in travel, banking etc.

What burdens do I see in becoming a senior citizen? The strongest is this: I do not want to join the crowd of senior citizens who carry the attitude of “I am entitled to special treatment because I am a senior citizen” that I regularly see around me. The following is a true incidence: I saw a man carrying a walking stick running to board the metro (I was inside), getting in and immediately, waving his stick, demanding a seat.

I am 59 years old and I perhaps look older than my age entitles me to look, making people treat me with sympathy (may be too strong a word; it could be courtesy) and offer me a seat on the Delhi Metro (not too often, but it does happen). I instinctively say, “Thanks but no thanks.” I have chosen to commute by the metro and I will do so on its terms.

I do not know how I will act when I do get old and incapable enough to take even the smooth ride on a metro, but till then I do not want to get used to being shown sympathy /courtesy exclusively on account of my age as indicated by my looks.

I hate being listened to because I am old. This is again, in a manner of speaking, a perception of “Entitlement of age”. When I talk, I want you to listen to what I say. I hate the show of reverence that is usually occasioned because I sport a head full of grey hair. I am old alright, but I do not feel old. No, this does not mean feeling young. I neither accept nor carry the significance attached to being old. May be I am not that old. I take offence at people doing that for me, imputing what is acceptable behavior.

I hate my parents being insulted, posthumously. They gave me a name, indeed two, to satisfy the elders on my paternal and maternal sides – Raghuram and Sridhar. Now, why do people correct it by calling me Raghuji? Where did that ji come from? My age and my looks? Another reason not to become a senior citizen.

Likewise, why that Uncleji? Uncle may be an acceptable form of addressing a stranger, but Uncleji? I do not want these terms of faux respect.

I know enough senior citizens who do not recognize that they are merely being tolerated. I do not want to be one of them. Senior citizens appear to lose their ability to update themselves on the evolving environments in a conversation – interest, tolerance, apathy, and finally, hostility. I do not want to go through these stages.  

One of the first things to go as one ages is one’s memory (In my case, my head injury helps (?)). I hate senior citizens repeating episodes from their life. If they are doing that unintentionally, they could at least remember to ask their listeners whether this episode has already been narrated and stop upon receiving a nod. They do not. I would not want to fall into that trap.

Know-it-alls are prevalent across all age groups. But, perhaps I am biased, I notice is most and most intensely among senior citizens. This is precisely the reason the focus must be on what is being told instead of on who is telling, particularly if it is a senior citizen. When I become a senior citizen, I want to remember what was written in this post. The fact it was written by me may carry additional significance for me. Acceptable, as the exception that proves the rule!

Given all these negatives, why would I ever want to be a senior citizen? If and when I become a senior citizen, please remind me to read repeatedly through this post of mine.

Thanks in advance.

Raghuram Ekambaram