How old is old?

Satjit Singh

IT was a meeting that I anticipated would be unsavoury, but not for the reasons I thought. A senior executive — quite young — was sitting in front of me, flanked by his junior and an engineer from my office. After an exchange of pleasantries, he began with the justifications for non-performance of his company and vague assurances, on expected lines. I was stern and without making any effort to hide my displeasure, indicated the possibility of escalating the issue — to his embarrassment — unless he came up with a specific action plan.

‘Sir, I have great respect for you,’ he said. ‘That’s not necessary, we are meeting for the first time,’ I responded. He folded his hands and smiled: ‘Sir, I have been taught to respect elders. Aap to humare buzurg ho....’

‘Cut it short,’ I was annoyed. ‘Come to the point and don’t bother about personal respect.’ 

After the meeting, I told my engineer how unprofessional the man had been to call me buzurg (old). ‘But, Sir, you addressed him as beta twice in the beginning.’ ‘Oh, that must be spontaneous, out of habit, but that gives him no freedom to call me buzurg,’ I stood firm. The young engineer, whom I often call beta, was trying not to smile. I knew I was on the back foot.

That incident set me thinking: what was wrong in being called buzurg and at what age did ‘elderly-hood’ begin? 

I referred to a dictionary, but it gave no clue to the exact age at which a man is called ‘old’. Among several meanings of the word were: ‘having lived for a long time’; ‘no longer young’; ‘having the characteristics or showing the signs of ageing’.

I spoke to a doctor-friend, but it did not leave me any wiser. Some diseases are said to be the diseases of the elderly, but there is no set age at which patients may be under the care of a geriatrician — a physician who specialises in the care of the elderly. 

A friend known for his funny take on any philosophical question had this to say: ‘Anybody who is 10 years elder to me is old.’ He has been consistent in his opinion for the past 20 years and sticks to this equation.

Brainstorming with youngsters at home enlightened me about some traits of ‘the old’ from the viewpoint of the next generation: They are often seen in community parks, participating in guided laughter; they wear clothes not according to the latest trend and every jacket or shirt has a story behind it; they are generally talking about their ailments, unmindful of whether the listener is interested or not; they read the newspaper end to end, often more than once; they tell stories of ‘their times’, repeating the same story to some poor listener; they quarrel with their spouse for no reason and when children come home worried about the morning fight, they find the couple laughing over a cup of tea, discussing the pakoras they savoured at Tarn Taran. The mention of Tarn Taran, my Malgudi, was a sarcastic attack directed towards me. Everyone laughed, but I now know what not to say and do to avoid being called old.