A JOURNAL OF LIFE’S LESSONS- PART 3
A few years ago while I was on my evening walk along the Tiruvanmiyur beach road, I met him. He seemed at least ten to twelve years elder to me, nearing his eighties possibly. Sitting on a seat by the sidewalk with the sea behind and watching the setting sun. For me, it was a poignant sight: who knew it could be me ten years hence, a preview. I have seen him there before, many times. At times he would be missing for a few months and that would set me wondering where he was or what had happened to him. That day I decided to talk to him, so I went and sat next to him and smiled in greeting, and asked him, “Haven’t seen you around for some months. Hope you are doing fine?” That was the first time I had spoken to him and introduced myself.
“Thank you for asking. I am just fine; my wife and I have been away to the US to spend some time with our children and grandchildren. By the way, my name is Vishwam (a pseudonym which I have used in my book ‘Autumn Leaves-Seasons of Life’).”
Then started a conversation that ultimately became the backdrop for my book.
“You must have had a lovely time being with your loved ones,” I said.
“Yes, especially with the grandchildren. They are young and affectionate. They are also growing up and in a couple of years, they will also be busy and will have lesser time to spend with us. But I guess that things take their own course and that’s how it will be,” he replied.
I could detect a hint of melancholy in the way he said that. He was talking to me but his gaze was far away directed at the setting sun.
“I am sorry if I am interrupting your need to be alone. I fully respect that.”
“No. It’s perfectly ok, and at times like this, the need to talk to someone arises. I am happy you decided to take a break from your walk to come and sit here,” he said.
I sat silently waiting for him to continue for I knew he wanted to talk. From behind us, a cool breeze blew in from the sea with the sound of the waves in the background and the setting sun, a red orb now in front of us, preparing to disappear into the horizon. There was still some light and the neon lamps started lighting up along the beach road.
“I returned only last week after a six-month stay in the US. You wouldn’t believe it but during the last couple of months, I was exhausted from doing the same thing every day. All said and done even if you are with your loved ones, the stark reality is that they are busy with their own work and lives. My wife missed her temple and the celebrations that accompany each festival. I missed my long walks and daily interactions with friends and neighbors and the freedom to move out on my own. I missed my space. The funny thing is when we are here we are excited to be going there. The grass is always greener on the other side, isn’t it? We have had no thoughts about staying permanently in the United States; we never wanted to. I knew we would miss our home back here, our friends, the cultural ethos we are used to, and above all, it is here that we could be ourselves. Maybe one day we will decide to go when we are unable to withstand the creeping loneliness that comes as we age and our physical inability to carry on our own. It will not be an easy decision. There will be problems of accommodation and adjustment given the generation gap, but you are left with no choice. To a certain extent, the emotional need may be taken care of by having your own near you. But you will always be left with the feeling that you are a burden. Well, I speak for myself. Both my sons are abroad and I really have no choice. Lucky are those who have at least one of their children based in India; it’s a comfort. I know a number of my friends have moved over to Senior Living facilities, either because they do not want to go or because their children are not in a position to take them over. Well, I guess there is no universal solution for this. I personally cannot fit into this arrangement. In a sense, I have learned to be alone. I know that I am being selfish burdening my children with worry over our day-to-day welfare. I am seventy-eight years old now and maybe I will take a decision soon.” Vishwam said.
I understood the dilemma of Vishwam. Our children staying out of the country themselves face a number of challenges. The foremost is having aged parents back home in India and worrying about their well-being day in and day out, apart from having to cater to the habits and lifestyles of their adopted country. Neither able to completely identify themselves, nor able to stick to their roots, they find themselves at the crossroads. Many parents opt out even if their children are in a position to sponsor them for a green card because they feel uncomfortable adjusting to a new environment where they may have to shed all those things they have grown up with. This is understandable; it’s very difficult to move out of your comfort zone, your memories, family traditions, and cultural practices. So the dilemma is on both sides. Neither is to blame.
We sat for some more time in silence and as the sun just disappeared over the horizon, I got up to go back home.
“I am also leaving, let us walk together. I will be going to the temple before heading home. That’s also a daily routine. My wife would have already finished her temple visit and will be back home, busy in the kitchen. We are used to this for so many years that any small change in the routine distracts us. So you can imagine how we would have spent six months in the US,” Vishwam said.
Aging is a process that can never be reversed. Acceptance of the fact makes it easier to carry on. As your children move away seeking their own pastures, they drift away to longer distances and that is the reality of life now. Gone is the generation when families stayed together and to an extent staved off the loneliness that accompanies old age. But this came at a cost. The cost of encroaching on individual freedom. We never learned to be alone. The distance in space and time brings with it its own dilemmas. Aging brings with it infirmity and loneliness; the reality of the present day is that most are left to fend for themselves. The misery is on both sides of the ocean.
Having seen around me the reality of aging and loneliness predominant, the younger generation moving still further away and the older ones slowly learning to cope with being by themselves. In my book ‘Autumn Leaves-Seasons of Life,’ I talk about this reality. The story traces the disintegration of families from what was once a joint one with a ruling patriarch and the other members strewn around not far away, to single units ultimately spread out in far and distant lands; the slow but perceptible shifting away in distance and relationships and acceptance of which as a reality was unalterable.
I end with an extract from my book ‘Autumn Leaves- Seasons of Life’-
“The advancement in knowledge and the growth in opportunities away from home, contributing ta more independent individual learning to live life on his own terms, though desirable, has led to the splintering of families and in a sense an inevitable reality of being left alone as one aged. ‘AutumnLeaves’ traces one such family’s travel through four generations. Krishnan finds himself sandwiched between his father Vishwam’s and his own children's generations similar to what his father had gone through; each moving away to accept new values and shedding old ones which had ceased to be relevant, to accommodate the changing world.”
TO BE CONTINUED
