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The Rediff Special/Anvar Alikhan

When I'm sixty-four

I have seen the future, and it sucks.

No I'm not talking about something conceptual and macro, like technology or sociological trends or lifestyles. I'm talking about something very specific and real that is out there, waiting for you and for me; it's only a matter of time. Yes, brother, I'm talking about Old Age, which I have had the unique privilege of seeing from close-up, as it has zeroed in on my own parents.

I'm not even talking about extreme old age, like being in your 80s or 90s. Even late 60s or early 70s will do.

No matter how well you think you have prepared for it, chances are it will get you in the most unexpected, most awful way.

OK, so you may have been really careful about your health all your life, brother. You may have exercised regularly, followed a strict diet, not smoked or drunk. You may have had regular medical check-ups and followed your doctor's instructions to a T. You may have even been a great athlete in your time. But it could still sneak up on you one morning, brother, maybe just after you've come home from your usual 2-mile walk. And it could hit you with something nice and nasty. A paralytic stroke? Brain haemorrhage? The beginnings of Alzheimer's disease? Or Parkinson's? Or maybe Systemic Lupus? (You haven't heard of Systemic Lupus yet, brother? Just pray do God you never do.)

You may have had a good career, brother. You may have lived prudently and saved and made all the right investments. But somewhere along the way, the stock market will have taken a large bite out of your portfolio, and now-defunct NBFCs would have taken another bite, and various sleazy portfolio managers and immovable tenants and teak plantations and other assorted sharks will have taken there share. And then, of course there's inflation. So now with what you have left, you have to face the terrifying new breed of corporate hospital and doctor-for-hire. (You have medical insurance? Forget it, brother, the way it works with our public sector insurance companies, the hand that has happily taken your premia all these years has nothing to do with the hand that now has to pay out on your claims.)

You may have been fairly successful in your time, brother. You may have known people in the right places, whom you knew you could turn to in times of need. You may have helped many people along the way who owed you large debts of gratitude. But that was then, brother, and this is now. You'll be surprised at how few people will remember you now that you are past tense, and in need of help yourself. To put it crudely, as long as you are worth knowing, people will flock around you. But when you are finished you are inconvenient, unnecessary and an embarrassment. Nobody wants to even know you any longer.

That's the way it is, brother, that's the way it is.

So there you are now, sitting in your chair like a rag doll, drooling. Or lying in bed, covered with a shawl and praying for an early deliverance. And all you have now, brother, is your spouse, your children and a handful of your closest, oldest friends. And if you're not particularly lucky you might not even have that.

So take my advice, brother, and avoid old age, avoid it like the plague. And I will tell you how:

One of these days, while you are at the prime of life, while you are still successful and rich and famous and healthy, go off on a nice long holiday. Go someplace exotic, like Goa. Or maybe Thailand or Singapore or Mauritius. Check into a 5-Star hotel and damn the cost. Do all the things that make you really happy. Then one night, go and celebrate with a champagne dinner at the most expensive restaurant in town. Come back to your hotel, turn down the sheets and swallow a few sleeping pills (about 50 or 60 should do it, I am told.)

That's the best old age insurance there is.

The Rediff Specials

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