Fresh Start

In the capital of Kerala, Thiruvananthapuram, or TVM as it is often referred to as, lives my maternal grandmother’s older sister. She is well over 90 years old (she has been 82 years old for the past 15 years, I think) and she lives alone in a house, away from the rest of the family. To live alone was her decision. I can almost see her sitting in her favorite chair, strategically placed right in front of the TV where she watches her favorite serials---The Bold and The Beautiful, Santa Barbara and other such ‘scandalous’ American serials that a woman her age should not be watching. Or so her neighbors think. When she is not catching up on her serials, she can be found supervising her maid, with the latest English novel (romance or thriller) tucked under her arm. And if you think she is old and frail, let me tell you that she runs like a 16-year-old and climbs stairs faster than any teenager. I know this for sure because she humiliated my entire family by running around a palace we had gone to visit, while we trailed breathlessly. She is just one of the elderly people in my family who chose to live away from their children, to live without any interference. Her son had a tough time trying to get her to move in with him and his family but then later, he respected her decision. Her children and grandchildren now visit her.

And then there is another house in tucked away in Kerala. When I last visited that house, I was greeted by a house full of elderly people who can be best described as being drunk on life. The youngest of them was nearly 70. Although there are old-age homes in Kerala, this group of oldies comprised like-minded cousins who decided to live under the same roof. They had set aside some money for themselves, signed off property and money in favor of their loved ones and decided to move in together. And it was a joy to watch them gathered in the sprawling living room. Like all our ancestral homes, this house had about 10 bedrooms besides other rooms. While each of the 6 to 7 residents has a room to himself/herself, the spare bedrooms were kept for their children, grandchildren, and other relatives who wished to visit for a few days. They had a few maids and nurses to help them around but otherwise, they are quite independent and very comfortable. I think their toothless grins and smiles speak volumes about the relaxed life they lead, and most importantly, in their own terms.

It was fascinating to watch these grandparents, great grandparents, and in some cases, even great, great grandparents (including my great, great grand uncle) interact among themselves. The youngest man of the house is still bossed by his elder sister. He pouts and complains and yet does her bidding. Of course, all this is the usual drama. They love complaining about each other and taking a jibe at each other. They fight, they fuss, and it was evident that they shared their pains and joys along with medications and advices. The best part is, of course, that they are happy to be with their brothers and sisters, spending the last of their days in company of people they grew up with. It seemed that once they came together, they stopped playing the role as the pillar of their respective family. They were now free to become kids again---the 89-year-old man was again a 6-year-old kid in knickers, the 97-year-old cousin was again a 20-year-old dandy young man, the 103-year-old toothless granny grinning from her rocking chair was now 16-year-old pigtailed girl, and the stubborn 70-year-old fluffing his much older sister’s pillow was the pimply, irritating cousin who followed his elder siblings everywhere once upon a time.

While I sat there listening to their conversation, I realized that at some point of time, they had started talking amongst themselves, having but almost completely forgotten my presence. I suddenly felt like an intruder amidst them. They were in their own world, reminiscing, sharing anecdotes of their lives, each other’s lives, with my family. There was something so pure and innocent about the way they lived together that I wished that they all lived happily like this for as long as they wished. When I finally walked out of the house, I could still my heart warm with the laughter they shared. Who said growing old has to be sad or something to fear? I had found a perfect set of people who had accepted their age as a fresh start to a new life. They really proved that age is just a number and age is really just how old you feel.

Sangeeta Menon