Sunday, 17 April 2016

How I Know I'm Growing Old

So remember that time when I said: "I know there are times when I'm going to be depressed and melancholic, struggle with self-doubt and probably old age at some point.. achy bones and gray hair (that still seems a long way off though)."

(that still seems a long way off though).

(that still seems a long way off though). 

Yes, I really wrote that. Cue ominous music.

Fast forward to two days later, and one of my team mates is doing my hair for a party.

"Oh, look, I see the effect I'm having on you!" she chirps.

"Are you implying what I think you're implying? Do you see...?"

"Um.. gray hairs? Yeah, you have a few!"

 "What??!! I do??"

Another team mate chips in, "Yeah! Of course you do! I always thought it made you look so distinguished."

"I've had gray hair FOR A WHILE and no one thought to mention to to me??!!!"

Early to mid-20 year old team mates exchange worried glances and stay tactfully quiet.


Now the question is-

Pluck them out one by one as they appear until I'm bald?
Or dye my hair bright pink?
Or flaunt my gray hair as a sign of my maturity and wisdom?

Decisions, decisions.


When I meet new people, I introduce myself and ask them what their name is. (Or I re-meet people, and apologize for not remembering their name, and ask them to tell me their name again.) And all I hear is "My name is Blah." Between asking them their name, and hearing their name, my brain freezes and refuses to accept any new information. Not even three seconds does their name get retained in my head. Old age... or ADD?


I saw a kid throwing an empty chip packet on the street, and I stopped him and told him, "You're making India dirty! Don't throw trash on the ground." So he picked it up, got on to his bicycle, and clutching it to his handlebar (he didn't have anywhere else to put it) rode off, casting a worried glance at me.  Old age... or busybody?


I have unashamedly worn socks with slippers when the weather was cold enough.


Just asked my (young) roommates how they know I'm old.

"It's the way you dance."

(Sorry I asked.)

"Sometimes when I act silly, you give me looks."

"You aren't peer pressured into dancing in sarees in front of video cameras at weddings."

"Your mannerisms... your wise comments about everything."

"You don't make rash comments. I make rash comments."

Ah, old age.

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