On getting old...

Man, growing old is hard..

Not in the literal sense, of course. One is growing old every moment, every second, every minute, every hour...

You get my drift.

You do not realize that you are progressively getting older. Everyday the mirror doesn't tell you about the new wrinkle on you face of the new strand of grey hair.

Or the puffs on your face.

You do not feel the incremental calorie taking shelter on your well endowed stomach, your chest or your temples..

You don't see all these...

Don't worry if you don't see that you are aging. Society will give you clues. Showing the mirror is its self assigned role.

First clue is when the neighborhood kids start calling you uncle. First time it happens, you take umbrage. You shout at them, admonish them and somehow wrench a 'Bhaiyya' out of their stupid mouths.

But for how long?

There is the next gen and the one after that. It is a parade of ever younger next generations. They pound you down till you accept being called 'Uncle'

You console yourself that these are kids. They have earned the right to call you uncle, if you see what I mean.

But that is not the case with the random shopkeeper. You are in the next level of aging when the random shopkeeper starts calling you uncle. 'Uncle, aap chai peeyoge?' asks the chaiwalla in the railway platform.

I run an innocuous hand over my graying side burns while giving him an eyeful. I have half a mind to dump the entire contents of the tea pot on his stupid head. I restrict myself to the mean look.

From 'uncle', it is a quick promotion to 'Uncle ji'. It is a more respectable uncle.

Shall I tell you a secret? 'Uncle ji' is a powerful phrase. You can use it to your advantage. Negotiate the heck out of that shopkeeper who called you 'uncle ji'. Indian society places a lot of importance to age. Use that reverence to your advantage. Negotiate to the last drop of blood from the shopkeeper who dared to call you 'Uncle ji'

He will crumble in the end, mark my words

"Aap se kya bargain karna uncle ji", he will tell you finally in exasperation, "you name your price".

My standard rate is 10% discount on the list price for each 'Uncle jis', including the one where he caved.

While the incidents that I mentioned above are normal, I have come across two situations that flummoxed me.

First was when I was interviewing a candidate for a job. This was in 2015.

"How old are you?", I asked in passing. He told me he was 26 years old.

I did a quick math, must have been born in the late eighties.

"My dad was 26 when I was born. He was born in 64", I am not able to fit this CAT question in context, but 1964 was definitely mentioned.

I was born in 1963, which means that sitting right in front of me was someone who could have been my son. I never saw THIS coming. (of course it had to happen some time, but it was surreal all the same)

My first experience of recruiting a guy who was young enough to be my son.

(As a non sequitur, I was married in 1993. Which means I had never had sex for four years when this guy's dad was reproducing like dickens !!)

Interviewing a guy who was young enough to be my son made me acutely aware of my age and the aging process...

The second episode when I became aware of aging was even more bizarre...

One of the advantages of growing old is that you learn that girls like flirting and aging process comes with a license to flirt with pretty young girls. 

In the office I work, there are two girls in our department, both in their 20s, one from Maharashtra and the other girl, Nitya, from Kerala.

I smile at them everyday and wish them a cheery good morning. I generally comment on their hair style or their pretty eyelashes.  Girls like these, you know.

They also respond with enthusiasm.

I was kinda proud that I was able to flirt effortlessly with PYGs.

I still had that 'Ram Charm'...

One day, while I was signing the attendance register, Nitya, girl from Kerala, came to me.

"Can I tell you something?", she asked.

Of course you can, darling. Ram is always receptive to 'something' told by pretty girls.

"You look just like my dad. Every time I see you, I remember my father living in Kerala"

Damn.

Damn, damn, damn...

All these days, every time she looked at me, she was seeing her dad in me. On weekends, when I work casuals to office, and she commented, "you look different today", she was probably planning to buy her dad a pair of jeans and a T shirt (with words, 'Man for all seasons' written on it) on her next trip to Kerala.

Let me tell you, looking like some one's dad is the worst thing that can happen to you. Especially when they are away from family. It is OK if you did not know. But once you know, you don't know how to handle it. How do you handle that yearning look of love and affection? How do you handle that critical look when you say or do something 'unfatherly'? What is the approach to handle this? Is there an SOP?

Knowing that you look like some one's dad is tough.If that someone is living alone and away from the family, the knowledge can be unnerving.

And finally, if you look like the father of a pretty young girl, it can be downright deflating.

On the positive side, every time I look at Nitya, I also started thinking that had I had a daughter, she would have looked as pretty as her. One of the few times when I was proud of my sperms. They have taste.