I recently came across this quote by the American jurist, Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr: “Old age is always fifteen years older than I am.” This statement reinforces my belief that life is beautiful. I hope that this guiding principle never abandons me. We have several groups of seniors in our society. My wife and I have successfully resisted all their attempts to enrol us. We have our reasons. We do not wish to feel fifteen years older than our age by singing daily devotional hymns, talking endlessly about our past with no hopes for the future, indulging in society politics, or even conveying our grievances.
We would rather remain distant. We have friends who would not let us feel old, even as age catches up. We have formed a potluck group with five other couples of our age. We try to meet once a month over laughter, lively conversation, music, and dinner. We talk about almost everything under the sun except politics and religion — the two subjects that have historically led to irreconcilable differences. It is foolish to spoil beautiful friendships. We share notes about our past and future travel plans.
After dinner, one friend will play his guitar, and a few ladies will sing. That marks the end of a rather long, yet beautiful, evening — one that never feels long while it lasts. There are fond goodbyes, with a promise to meet at someone else’s home the next month. Some of us will be back on the walking track the next morning.
It is not easy to form long-lasting friendships, particularly within professional circles. We are lucky to count three couples from my erstwhile railway fraternity as close friends. I met two of them almost forty-five years ago. There is nothing common between the three of us: One has a dry sense of humour and a philosophical view of life; the other remains deeply involved with railway matters even a decade after his retirement; and I am passionate about my creative pursuits. Two of us were even on opposite sides of the table for a few years. We married within a year of each other, and the ladies formed a bond as well. The passionate railwayman would ramble about the latest goings-on within the department, with the occasional witty comment from the other friend. I would smile and nod along. We would part with a promise to meet again. The four of us share an easy camaraderie that many would envy. There are a few more. My wife had four close college friends. She was the first to marry, and the other four attended our wedding. Over the years, they lost touch. One of them persevered in her efforts to find me and reconnect with my wife. She persisted in locating the others, eventually bringing all five together, spouses included. To our surprise, the husbands bonded too, despite diverse backgrounds.
We took a European holiday together and are now contemplating another trip. One of the ladies has also started writing for the same newspaper, and we encourage each other to pen our thoughts more often. These are friends with whom we get along because we do not make each other feel old or “on the way out.” At the same time, we make active efforts to know and befriend younger people. The young give us insights into their world, helping us feel at home amid modernity. Old age is the ultimate truth. However, it will continue to elude us, and those fifteen years will remain distant — until it is time to say goodbye, with fond memories.
The author is an electrical engineer with the Indian Railways and conducts classes in creative writing