Zen and the art of negotiating old age

Diary of a scientist in his not so nifty nineties

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I have made it to the good old age of 90 simply because death has been kind enough not to knock on my door. That my life is still running is a gift. Negotiating it is fun.


Old age is what others attribute to you. To a great extent, age is a state of the mind. I take pleasure in working on my computer on science, religion and culture. I have learned a lot over the years but the most important thing I always follow is: be useful to yourself and to others. Keep your mind and body fit by reading and ruminating, and by doing walking exercises. 

Life in my 90s is much slower because I have difficulty with movement. Luckily, I am not slower intellectually. My memory has been strong. I have also gained new interests. I never used to write so often. I write quite a lot now, particularly on subjects like the vedas, ethics, medical entomology and vector control, which I had dealt with during my active service as a researcher. I also delight in writing incisive articles on faulty public health practices in our country.

I can still walk (with the aid of a cane). I can talk, eat, sleep (with the aid of pills). I can smile and, on occasion, laugh. Being 75 per cent deaf, I am no longer confident enough to start a long conversation on any important topic. Yet, while sitting at my computer and fashioning my articles, resisting an urge to lie down, I cannot but plaintively remember the years of my creative vigour when my body and spirit jubilantly embraced the strain and rigours of work.

Waking up in the morning is a big effort. I do it with great reluctance, assisted by an alarm clock at the bedside. I have to do it, because my handicapped wife, aged 82, is usually lying listless at that time, and our day has to start. I sit on my bed and say, "Thank you God for everything that you have given me, for keeping me alive and reasonably active, and for helping me wake up on time today." I have started this new practice, and when I feel negative (which is more often than not) I say a simple prayer: "Please let me get through the day with a positive bent of mind, or at least help me stay positive." I may not always see results but I feel slightly better. 

When I lie down to sleep, lulled by TV serials or news, I say, "Please help me fall asleep soon; I do not want to stay awake with negative thoughts; please help me wake up on time." I try to recollect whether I have hurt anybody by word or deed, and ask forgiveness of God. I try to recall whether I have helped anybody during the day, and if so, I pat myself on my back. 

For the last many years, early in the morning, I have been lighting diyas (lamps) in front of several images of gods in my house. I say a few hymns (mantras) whose meaning I know, but recite them mechanically day after day. I then say to God, "Please help me go through this day. Take away my wife, married to me for 64 years, a veteran of many surgeries, physically incapacitated and totally wedded to a walker. Take her away while I am still alive to look after her." We were married in 1957, and she was taking care of me all these years. She became bedridden about a decade ago, now moving about slowly. Every day we think, without saying to each other, who will survive whom. 

We somehow manage our life; we do not visit anyone nor welcome visitors. I do certain essential chores--heat the milk in the milk cooker, prepare a cup of tea and share it with my wife. Then I have my bath at 5am, and go for a walk for 30 to 40 minutes. After I return, I prepare and eat breakfast. It is almost the same items every day for which I grind the dough for a week at a time. After breakfast, I tend my terrace garden and feed some pigeons, mynahs and squirrels. Then I read newspapers. 

After 9am I cook a meagre meal, with my wife giving me guidance. Sometimes we order meals from outside. For as long as I can remember, some crows have been visiting me when I am cooking, and they virtually eat rice (with curd and sesame seeds) out of my hands. I am having a lot of exercise by moving about in my house, cooking and doing other chores, and that is what is keeping me fit. I go shopping at nearby places, driving my Alto 800. People recognise it since it has been hit by almost every other motorist, but it is working well-–In four years, it has run only 4,000km. I spend more money on car insurance and routine servicing than on petrol! 

Post lunch, I lie down because I always feel dead tired. I remember Porthos (of Three Musketeers) telling how his legs are giving away and suddenly dropping dead. I feel the same. I hope one day I will be blessed to drop dead, without being bedridden. 

After facing disappointment with several cooks I had hired, I have slowly evolved into a good cook (a favourite profession of Palakkad Iyers in olden days). Ever since I got an old computer free in 2010, I have been writing articles which keeps me busy. Some good Samaritans I know help me and some even admire me for my achievements in life (Padma Shri award, several gold medals, and ten lifetime achievement awards from universities and scientific bodies). I just enjoy my life-–too lazy to shave and therefore have a long beard and look like a sanyasi. I have my own flat and a good pension. My wife holds a record for the number of surgical operations undergone, starting with brain tumour surgery in 1985, and moves about like a zombie with a walker.

Philosophically speaking, we always underestimate our own potential, creativity and originality. Only a few people do or act; the rest of us spend life judging, criticising or commenting on what the doers have done; especially, we focus on what they have failed rather than what they have accomplished. We hardly know other people; we just make up or assume images of them and, most of the time, believe in those images more than the real person. Whatever happens in our life or in someone else’s life, we comprehend the events by associating them with the experiences we have had in the past but hardly with what has happened in the real. We are all mortals, but we behave as immortals. Many people do not realise how their life is affected by the rules, laws, policies, systems, etc., of the country in which they live. 

We are all different because we have passed through different experiences. All of us are creative in our own ways, but many of us do not realise what that means at all. There is neither a good nor a bad thing, idea, or person; they only differ because of our varied perceptions and beliefs. We only receive what we want to. For instance, we only listen to those words which we want to; rest are just noises. Life is nothing but routines shaped by our memories; thus, the only way to transform a life is by transforming our routines. 


Smartness is a gift; hardworking is an attitude; both make a person ‘good and great’. My life is not just about me and my decisions. It also depends on the decisions or choices of many others, such as family, community, mentors. What we know or understand is nothing compared with what we do not know or understand in life. The only perfect person is God (if He exists). Nobody gives a damn about what you are going through in your life; they are here just to listen to your stories. 

One day my sons came and said that since I had not done enough good deeds propitiating God, there was some curse affecting the family. They said I must agree for a grand 90th birthday celebration, and that it is a must for the vamsa vruddhi (progress of the family). Since my life was already over, and I was eagerly awaiting my end, I wondered which family -- my children’s progeny and their vamsa vruddhi? I did not want to deny them their desire, so I agreed to have this function celebrated, but only after they assured me that I would not have to take any trouble or spend any money. Also, I was curious and wanted to enjoy festivities being conducted with me as the central hero, for the first time after my wedding. Ek Din ka Sultan (king for a day). 

Quite a few of my old friends, who are about my age, who share my crazy ideas and views on life, and many genuine well-wishers and scholars from my native villages of Tattamangalam and Payyalore took part and fell at my feet seeking blessings, as I was the oldest among the gathering. Plus, of course, many invitees of my two sons, none of them I know, attended. My children had spent quite a lot of money, took lots of trouble to ensure that every aspect in the ceremony, which culminated in a grand feast, was well conducted, photographed and applauded. After the event my wife and I were escorted back safely to my apartment and forgotten thereafter. We were back to square one and had to manage our miserable life alone from the same evening itself. Whether they really got vamsavriddhi or not, they patted themselves on their back that they did a good job. So that is life!

As we get older, attempts to hold on to our own way of life can be at odds with even the most well-intentioned “suggestions” from our children. We want to be cared about, but fear being cared for. Hence the push and pull when a well-meaning offspring steps onto our turf. So, what are older parents looking for in relationships with their adult children? In a 2004 study, two professors from the State University of New York at Albany, the public-health professor Mary Gallant and the sociologist Glenna Spitze explored the issue in interviews with focus groups of older adults. Among their findings: Their participants “express strong desire for both autonomy and connection in relations with their adult children, leading to ambivalence about receiving assistance from them. They define themselves as independent but hope that children’s help will be available as needed. They are annoyed by children’s over-protectiveness but appreciate the concern it expresses. They use a variety of strategies to deal with their ambivalent feelings, such as minimizing the help they receive, ignoring or resisting children’s attempts to control…”

 I recently read a story. When Arnold Schwarzenegger was the governor of California, a popular hotel honoured him with his statue in their hotel. The hotel officials told Arnold: "At any time you can come and have a room reserved in your name."  A few years later, when Arnold was no longer the governor and went to the hotel, the administration refused to give him a room arguing that the hotel was fully booked. He brought a bed cover and slept under the statue. He wanted to convey a very important message that when he was in a powerful position the hotel authorities were very respectful, and when he lost his position, they treated him like a stranger. Our position is also like this. After I got old and physically dependent on others for help and succour, people started avoiding me. Sheer will power and financial independence somehow help me carry on with life. People, emotions, respect and even affection change over time. Change is the only constant.

What is it like to be really old and know that death is not far off, as opposed to dying at any age and knowing death is imminent? People who are faced with death can be extremely adult and mature in their last year or two of life. This is because what makes adults seem adults compared with a youth is not the greater knowledge base from which adults can enjoy a broader conversation, but that as we get older most of us realise and sense that we are going downhill. With that appreciation, we cannot help but progressively contemplate our life and what its purpose was, along with any regrets. This tends to change the focus of a person’s life, as one ages, into thinking more of others, hence what we call ‘maturing’. This maturing, I believe, can happen at any age not just in adulthood. Youth who are reflective will evolve through very similar but faster maturing processes because they have had plenty of time to meditate on their own life and present condition. How we all reflect on what happens in life, and manage to live with it, is itself a wonder. My only daughter, my favourite child, now 61, is having leukemia for the last eight years. She has to be admired, she is so active--working as a teacher, publisher, doing all household chores, and so cheerful always. What about her thinking process? Her zest for living with a positive outlook has inspired me to look forward to the future even now.

Therefore, to me there is nothing special about the thinking processes knowing that I am “really old” and know death is not far off if not imminent. I have many other relations also, but they have their own problems, and have no time for me. Therefore, we two old persons live together, facing all problems and just managing --this is what I always tell, we manage!  Have to! Ultimately, it is all one’s own Karma. In the 90th year of my birth, I feel God had been very kind to me; I am still in my proper senses; doing my daily chores without anybody’s help, and am financially independent thanks to my pension. How I die, and what happens to my wife if she survives me, and what others feel about my death, etc., are matters of no consequence at all!! The ugliest truth about life, I feel, would be the following: No matter how good your life is, you will always find one thing or the other that makes you miserable.  All I see is people chasing moments of happiness and laughter. What the heck for? Instead of running towards happiness, why can’t people find a way to run away from sadness? Eliminate the reasons that make you sad, instead of thinking of the things that would make you happy. It’s easier to do, and trust my happiness would follow. 

Life is never perfect. Every solution comes with a new problem. Light exists because of the darkness and that is the harsh truth of life. Sometimes, the only solution is acceptance. That is my plight. Please bear with me. I have written all these things in a lighter vein and with malice towards none!


(The writer was director, Vector Control Research Centre, Indian Council of Medical Research)

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