Intellect at twilight: Why we need to speak more to seniors

When my mother turned 80 recently, a citizens’ forum in Thiruvananthapuram organised a felicitation for her. Having retired as a Hindi professor of three decades, she is not known for her oratory skills, but her thanksgiving speech was poignant. “I am thankful for the warmth and good wishes you showered on me because I have lived for 80 years,” she said. “Now, my request is for you all to get back home and show the same love and affection to your aged parents at home.” She went on to narrate a story by Munshi Premchand, about a well-to-do man and his wife hiding his mother when an influential guest comes home, thinking the wrinkled old woman would be an eyesore. Impressed by some of the artefacts he finds in the house, the guest discovers that the host’s mother had handcrafted them. He insists on meeting her. The hosts reluctantly take him to the room where the mother is kept locked. When the guest hugs and praises the mother for her skill, the couple realise their folly – and the cruelty they had been showing to the mother.

When I heard the story, I felt guilty that I don’t live with my mother; and my respect for my brother who takes care of her went up. Spending a few days with them last week, I realised the importance of not just providing for the elderly, but also acknowledging and encouraging their talent. This time I engaged my mother in debates – social, political and spiritual (where she beat me hands down). And I was pleasantly surprised that her arguments, rooted in lived experiences and an unwavering value system, are getting stronger. We agreed to disagree on many things, but I came away convinced that seniors need cerebral companionship.

I probably got into this ‘engagement with seniors’ mode after I got back in touch with an old mentor of mine, after a couple of decades. Ninety-one-year-old B R P Bhaskar, the legendary journalist with 70 years of experience, had written a book, and wanted me to help him organise a discussion on it. Chief minister M K Stalin readily agreed to release the book and, with Sashi Kumar, another veteran journalist, in attendance, it turned out to be an enriching experience.

Having lost his wife and daughter, Babu Sir, as I call him, has been living alone in an apartment (after shifting back from a senior care home where he didn’t “feel like writing”). Calling me up regularly in the past couple of months, he reignited in me the passion for journalism and reinforced the purpose of speaking truth to power. His book, ‘The Changing Mediascape’ is a must-read for every journalist and a treatise to anyone interested in media and politics. The book and our daily conversations also reminded me that a nonagenarian can only get sharper when engaged in an intellectual discussion.

Babu Sir has the uncanny knack of sounding simple while making profound statements. Here’s a sample. When I told him that I am in awe that he could recollect with such precision his journalistic experiences during such historic events as the Suez Canal crisis of 1956 and Jawaharlal Nehru’s death in 1964, he said: “Arun, I’ve done nothing but stayed alive so long to tell tales of truth.”

And then, last week, the calls stopped coming. My calls to him went unanswered. Today, a friend sent me a photograph of Babu Sir in a hospital bed. “Nothing serious,” the friend quoted my mentor as telling him, “I just couldn’t eat. I should be back home on Monday”. I plan to have lunch with him this week. And some food for thought.