There’s a Chinese fast-food restaurant near my place of work. It’s yummy (read spicy food with lot’s of chili paste), reasonably priced, and the service is quick. So I frequent it often. I see quite a few older folk in there usually. Older couples mostly. Like the one I saw yesterday. In their 70’s or 80’s I’m guessing, they were well-dressed white folk. The man looked older and the woman had a short hair-cut, and carried a large tote. They didn’t look like they were made of money, but they looked reasonably well-off. And they looked like they’d dressed with care; she had make-up on. Probably retired I think. They’re still lunching leisurely as I leave.

Another time in a Mexican restaurant, as I’m dipping nachos into the guacamole sauce I see this gaggle of old ladies enter. It’s noon-ish and really bright outside. And the women enter all sun-glassed and make-upped. Nicely dressed, high-heeled shoes, fashionable handbags etc. Their clothes are colorful, some of them are pastels others brighter. I notice some of them put their keys into their purses ; they have driven themselves. It looks like it’s the ladies day-out or something; the group is large and the chatter is that of old friends. All the women would be about, or older than my grandmother’s age.

I remember my grandmother. She always wore white sarees, or very pale off-white or grey colors. The saree could be embellished with very light embroidery or have a self-print , but it was generally very muted. She used no make-up. I never saw her in high-heeled sandals or fashionable purses. Her skin as far back as I can remember was always wrinkly; she must have been younger when I was a little kid, but she always seemed very old. She used to have a gold chain around her neck, and wore “kadas” on her wrists, and heavy bejeweled earrings which had so enlarged the holes in her ears that now instead of just being ear-piercings they were 2 deep gashes in the ear-lobes. And she was tall, but walked stooped with arthritic knees. When she went out of the house in a “nice” but still white sari, and her good chappals, her shuffling gait still suggested an old woman. She must have been beautiful when younger; I don’t have any photographs though.

When my grand-father died, her older sons were the earning members of the family. And she always lived with one or the other son. When she visited us, she spent a great deal of time in her pooja with her rosary beads. When she spoke to me it was mostly about food, eating and learning how to cook, doing the bed, learning household tasks and generally “being” a girl. A couple of times she would generally ask about school. I’m not sure if she ever thought about herself, as in apart from the household, her clothes, her looks, her wants. I don’t think it ever occurred to her to have an autonomous house of her own where she could stay and do as she liked.

Speaking of this with a friend R, she told me about her grand-mother. Also widowed her grand-mother lived with R’s dad and the family. R’s grandmother was a Sardarni. Also always wore very light pastel colors, and limited her life to looking after the household. When one son’s wife died, she moved to his house to take care of his family; he had 3 young daughters. R said her grand-mother loved sweets, she would walk a short while in the evenings and buy toffees at the corner paan shop. She also loved milk and would get herself a glass of it from the fridge everyday. This apparently was considered most un-old-ladylike, and she was subject to much gentle ridicule by other family members for having the toffee-eating habit (like an old person that desires toffees – my, my !).

I know that my grand-mother and R’s grandmother came from a different time, for Indian women. They never worked outside, rarely stepped out of the home and had school-level education only. Still, that comparison between my grand-mother and this old lady in the Chinese restaurant jars. It’s not just her attitude which is so different, as in the American woman looks like she’s interested in herself; it’s not just about her family and children – she exists too. My grand-mother rarely talked about herself. There was always the deprecating note of “Apna kya hai . . . “ (loosely translated to “I don’t matter”). She would have long conversations with my parents but her concerns were mostly about her children and their children and what was for lunch today etc. Her life as she saw it seemed to be limited to living in a son’s household and being dependent on someone else. Always.

There is also the very notable attitude which Indian society seems to have towards older folk. Like they stopped existing. Or existed only for their kids. Like they gave up all wordly pleasures when they became grand-parents. Or like old age is only for pooja-path. It’s still considered allright for an older women to wear pretty clothes or want new clothes if her husband is alive. Become a widow and that goes too. It’s considered improper then, to want, to desire. How many colorfully clothed old widowed aunties have you seen ?

I guess money comes into it big-time too. Some of my mom’s friends are widows too. But they’re wealthy widows. One of them live in this posh, sprawling bungalow all alone. There’s a chowkidaar at the gate and a chauffeur to drive her around. She has a cook and a full-time maid. Her kid’s live in other cities or abroad (I hear she visits them from time-to-time or they come over), and I’ve never heard her begrudge them their independent lives. According to my Mom, she comes to the kitty-parties dressed in expensive silk sarees and matching jewellery. Diamonds wink at her ears and fingers. She has diabetes and spondilitis (that’s common between all the rummy-playing aunties) but she doesn’t whine and moan about not seeing her son or her grandchildren or her great-grand-children. She has a full life of her own. I’ve met her and she’s this little old lady. Her hair is jet-black (comes out of a bottle) and she looks graceful and put-together (money’ll do that for you – that’s the cynical side of me popping up).

Some folk might tell me that she has nothing to complain about. I can’t agree though, for I’ve seen many uncles and aunties who inspite of having all material comforts, want their children to stick to them and not live their own, independent lives. Like my aunt once said to my Mom – It’s about our son. He’s our life.

When I look at older people (and single older women) around me here, I see them having a level of independence unheard of back home. And yeah, although it’s annoying being stuck behind a slow-moving car on a narrow street, when I turn around to look at the driver as I pass her by, and see an old-lady with snow-white hair and glasses through which she seems to be peering real hard, and she seems to be like 70, I’m instantly contrite. This woman has gotten dressed, and decided to go somewhere today, by herself. She didn’t wait around to be driven around by a son/daughter or a younger friend. She is hopefully well-dressed (I can’t tell that though, from my car), and presumably independent. And I’m like “You go girl !”

Categories : _india , _culture_and_society , _women