Age IS a number – get over it

It's always a bit of a jolt when one is reminded of one's age. Sometimes it comes as an unintentional backhanded compliment: "Apa you have 'preserved' yourself well," which may make you feel like a jar of onion pickle floating in a pool of mustard oil. At other times, it may be brutally honest and, again, well-intentioned, "Apa, the fact is this city is not made for old people; old people in this country should migrate to countries that are elderly-friendly." 

Well, you kind of asked for it when you were complaining about the sloping footbridge that gives you the jitters because of your rickety knees.

But the fact is that there is no way of getting out of this constant message that you are considered kind of a "marvel" just for being able to stand and not crumble to the floor. 

Of course it's all about perspective. When you were 12, your 16-year-old brother seemed like a real grown-up, and you were struck by his coolness for having the gumption to refuse haircuts and defy parental or school authorities, not caring about the dire consequences. When you were 16, you couldn't wait till you were 18, ready to enter the haloed gates of university, the Disney World of teenage fantasies where the possibility of being able to "study" hundreds of members of the opposite sex would make your head swim. 

This perverse obsession with wanting to grow up fast – to partake in what seemed to be the perfect montage of life's most glorious moments – lasts till one reaches 25, when suddenly it does an about-turn. The fear of turning 30 and being on the precipice of "oldness" can ruin one's 20s, which honestly speaking IS the best time of your life – although, as we have earlier established, it's all subjective. People in their 50s and 60s, for instance, wistfully remember their 40s, the pre-pubescence of old age when their midlife crises led to all kinds of silliness – wearing ripped jeans to look like a teenager and horribly failing, hanging out with 20-somethings to be part of "the gang," sporting psychedelic eyeshadow colours, and so on.

The 50s are possibly the most tumultuous years when you are forced to come to terms with the inevitable decline of all that you took for granted – hair, smooth skin, sturdy bones, patience, and the general urge to be spontaneous and adventurous. It is also the time when one develops an affinity for any product that has "anti" as a prefix. Hence, the rows of anti-ageing serums, anti-hair loss shampoos, anti-greying dye, antioxidants, antidepressants, antibiotics, and so on. It is almost like reliving puberty with the hormones going haywire (though with totally different outcomes), the feeling of being misunderstood and on short fuse all the time. It is a time when you really do feel like you are about to implode with rage at the sheer unfairness of it all, and also because SOMEONE DID NOT SWITCH OFF THE NIGHTLIGHT IN THE VERANDA EVEN AT 5AM!

It will also mean struggling to keep up with the sonic pace of technology so that, by the time you have kind of accepted that everything is saved "in the cloud," some smart Alec will tell you to AirDrop your files to their phone! You must also learn how to make your post "public" on Facebook and NOT send unicorn emojis to your boss when you text.

After the torment of the 50s, there is far more clarity in life. You will know for sure that the number of multi-coloured pills on your bedside table will keep on increasing, and your holidays abroad will fall under "medical tourism." You will be able to guess just how much your blood sugar level will shoot up if you have the extra jilapi after dinner, and how your BP will soar if you stay up till 2am binge-watching your favourite Netflix series. 

The best part is that it will no longer sting when the references to your twilight years are pointed out. In fact, it is a kind of superpower, this senior citizenship, providing you with incredible allowances – the privilege to be cranky at any given time, exemption from all kinds of heavy lifting, the entitlement of the best seat in the living room, the pure joy of having grandchildren to cuddle (but not see through college), being fed first, and getting away with all kinds of offending remarks that will be condoned as a quirk of ageing. 

The lesson, therefore, is to relish your age no matter what number it represents. Every age comes with its own set of challenges, but it also brings in new and interesting experiences that make life so mysterious and wondrous. So embrace your age with love and pride, smile triumphantly – toothless or not. 

Aasha Mehreen Amin is joint editor at The Daily Star.