Old Age Woes – Will You Have to Depend on the Kindness of Strangers...?

This evening – while on my evening walk – I remembered this story I had written almost 7 years ago in January 2012. 

Sadly – the protagonist of this story – Mrs. J – she passed away a few years ago. 

OLD AGE WOES
Do You Depend on the Kindness of Strangers...?
Musings of a Veteran 

By

VIKRAM KARVE 

Pune (Circa 2012) 

Sometime ago – during my early morning walk – I passed by Mrs. J’s house. 

I saw J – an 84 year old widow – struggling to walk in her garden. 

I wished J good morning – and I asked her how she was. 

She answered: 

“I depend on the kindness of strangers.”

For a moment – I was speechless. 

Then – slowly – I let her words sink in – and perambulate in my mind – “I depend on the kindness of strangers” – and – these words struck a chord. 

I was transported back in time – more than 37 years ago – to the year 1981 – if my memory serves me right – when I had seen the play called A STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE which had a lasting impression on me. 

I witnessed a performance of the indigenous Indian Production of this 1948 Pulitzer Prize winning masterpiece by Tennessee Williams at the Kamani Auditorium in New Delhi directed by Alyque Padamsee with terrific performances by Dalip Tahil as Stanley Kowalski and Sabira Merchant as Blanche DuBois. 

I still remember the heart-rending scene – when – after being totally destroyed by Stanley, while being taken away to a mental asylum, a shattered Blanche holds onto the doctor’s hand and says: 

“Whoever you are – I have always depended on the kindness of strangers”.

Though the context in the play is different – I realized the universal all-encompassing truth encapsulated in those profound words – which were spontaneously uttered by the old lady J – who I am sure has not read or seen the play “A Streetcar Named Desire”.

As I observe in Pune – I realize that there are so many senior citizens living alone – so many old people who “depend on the kindness of strangers” – especially in the middle-class. 

In most cases – their children live abroad in the USA pursuing their American Dream – while their parents live a life of loneliness awaiting their deaths back home in India. 

Also – I notice that the longevity of women seems to be more then men – since there are far more senior citizen widows who heavily outnumber the widowers.

Before you blame the “ungrateful and selfish children” for “abandoning” their “hapless” parents – I think you must consider the fact that there are always two sides to a coin (or two “points of view” in every story).

MIDDLE CLASS DREAMS

Let me give you a bit of a background.

In the 1960’s and 1970’s – I lived in a “middle-class” locality in Pune – where parents had two dreams:

1. First – their son must get into an IIT and go abroad to USA to realize the American dream and achieve “success”.

2. Second – they must get their daughters married to a “successful” American NRI so that she too could go the USA to live a life of prosperity and happiness there.

Many such parents – like the old lady J – achieved their dreams.

And – they are paying the price today.

Even today – I see so many parents who are desperate to send their kids abroad for higher studies and to settle down there. 

In the earlier “pre-globalization pre-liberalization” days prior to 1991 – it was difficult to go to America unless you graduated from an IIT or topped from a premier University. 

Today – it is much easier to go abroad for studies or for work. 

Post liberalization – in the globalized world of today – if you are willing to spend your money – you can easily go for higher studies abroad – or you can go there via the “IT Route” – by first going abroad to work onsite – and then sidestepping into a job over there in America.

This is the main reason why there is a beeline for jobs in the IT/ITES industry – it is the easiest way to migrate overseas.

Then or now – the fact of the matter is that it is the parents themselves who encourage and monetarily facilitate their children to go abroad.

Parents inculcate ambitious values that create in the minds of their children the urge to migrate to America or some other prosperous country for a “better life”.

So who is to blame – the parents or the children?

I ask the old lady “J” : 

“Why don’t you go and live with your son or daughter in America...? Have they refused to take you there...? Are your children unwilling to have you live with them...?”

“No – not at all. Far from it...” the old lady says, “my children want me to live with them over there and keep calling me to relocate permanently to America and stay with them in the US. I have gone there so many times – but I don’t want to live there with them in America. I don’t like it over there.”

I am puzzled. 

It seems very strange. 

Why should the old lady prefer to live a difficult lonely life out here in India – full of hardship – when she can live a comfortable life of luxury in America with the best of facilities and healthcare – and in the company of her children and grandchildren...?

Why do so many senior citizens prefer to live alone in India and depend on “the kindness of strangers” – when they can enjoy the evening of their lives by migrating abroad to live with their NRI children and exulting in the love and care of their near and dear ones...?

Is it ego? 

Is it something else? 

Is there some other reason?

I don’t know. 

I don’t have the answer. 

Do you?

If you do have the answer – or wish to share your views on this subject, please comment and let us know.

And – you better start thinking – about the evening of your life – when you become 70 or 80. 

In Old Age – you have to decide from these 3 Choices:

1. Do you want to live with your children...?

2. Do you want to live alone...? 

3. Do you want to live in an old age home (retirement community) which has assisted living facilities and where you will be well cared for and looked after...?

Remember – if you choose the second or third choice above – you will be dependent on the kindness of strangers.

Think about it.

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 
1. If you share this post, please give due credit to the author Vikram Karve
2. Please DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. Please DO NOT Cut/Copy/Paste this post
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Disclaimer:

1. This article is just “food for thought”, my musings, no offence is meant to anyone, so take it with a pinch of salt.

2. While planning your old age – please do your own due diligence. 

3. All stories in this blog are a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the story are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright Notice:

No part of this Blog may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Blog Author Vikram Karve who holds the copyright.

Copyright © Vikram Karve (All Rights Reserved)

     

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

 

Simple Solution to a Difficult Problem

SHORT FICTION STORY

Dear Reader: 

Let me delve into my Creative Writing Archives – and pull out a story called “The Solution” I had written 6 years ago – in July 2011 

Here is the story – duly abridged and revised – for you to read: 



DIFFICULT PROBLEM – SIMPLE SOLUTION

Fiction Short Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE

Part 1 : THE ULTIMATUM

“I don’t know how I am going to solve this problem...” Anil said.

Yes – Anil indeed had a big problem on his hands. 

The problem was his old father. 

Anil’s father had dementia – and it was getting worse day by day.

“At first it was okay. We could manage somehow. He used to forget – or talk incoherently – or have mood swings – or he would get disoriented a bit and need help doing things – we all tried our best to look after him – my wife – my two kids – all of us did the best we could. But now – he is becoming impossible to handle...” Anil said.

“I know...” I said, “it must be very difficult for all of you – especially your wife.”

“All these years – my wife really cared for my father with love and devotion – as if he was her own father. She tolerates all his idiosyncrasies and she looks after his every need – she has to bathe him, dress him, feed him – even take him to the toilet. Even when he got aggressive with her – she managed to calm him down. But after this morning’s incident – my wife has given me an ultimatum.”

“Ultimatum...?” I asked.

Part 2 : THE PROBLEM

Dear Reader – before I continue the story – let me tell you what had happened that morning – and how this conversation with Anil began. 

I had gone to Pune Railway Station in the morning to receive my daughter who was arriving from New Delhi by the Duronto Express.

I was walking towards the over-bridge – when I spotted Anil’s father wandering aimlessly on Platform No. 1 – from where the Deccan Queen to Mumbai was about to leave. 

Suddenly – Anil’s father started walking towards the AC Coach – and he was about to board the Deccan Queen – when I stopped him. 

I caught hold of his hand – and I pulled him aside – just in time – before the train began to move. 

Anil’s father did not recognize me. 

He tried to pull his hand free – and when I tightened my grip – he gestured towards the moving train – and he started incoherently muttering at me: 

“Mumbai – Duty – Mumbai – Duty…”

Then – suddenly – Anil’s father got aggressive and he tried to violently break free. 

So – I raised an alarm – and with the help of some people – we overpowered him. 

Once he was overpowered – Anil’s father collapsed and he started weeping like a child.

I called up Anil – who rushed to the railway station – and we had to literally carry Anil’s father to the car. 

Suddenly the old man’s condition worsened – and it looked like he was having a seizure – so we rushed him to hospital – where they admitted Anil’s father into the ICU to keep him under observation.  

We sat outside the ICU. 

I felt sad for Anil and his father. 

Anil and I were “Railway Children” – who had grown up together in those typical Railway Townships which adorn big railway junctions all over India. 

Our fathers – both were Special Class Railway Apprentices from the same batch of SCRA – they were close friends – and – we luckily had many postings in the same places – so Anil and I became close friends too. 

After school – we – Anil and I – we both went to IIT – and now – both of us lived and worked in Pune. 

I felt sad for Anil’s father. 

In the prime of his life – as a distinguished Railway Officer – he had such a regal persona and a commanding personality – and now – dementia had reduced him to this misery in his old age.

Part 3 : THE SOLUTION 

Anil’s father lies sedated in the ICU.

Soon our wives – a few colleagues – and a few friends arrive.

We all stand in balcony outside the ICU of the hospital – brainstorming to find a solution to the problem.

“I cannot handle him anymore,” Anil’s wife says, “ever since Anil’s father got this dementia – the last few years have been hell for me. Anil goes out to work – the children go to school – but I have to live with Anil’s father all the time. I have to do everything – I have to suffer his tantrums – I have to even clean his shit – and now he does this – he just runs away from home and he gets lost. I can’t take it anymore – I will go crazy.”

“She needs a break,” my wife says to Anil, “why don’t you send your father to your sister’s place for a few days?”

“His sister?” Anil’s wife says mockingly, “as long as her father was fine she was the “doting daughter. Anil’s sister ensured that she got her share in her father’s property. Now that her father is sick – Anil’s sister is shirking her responsibility – and she has washed her hands off him. The last time she visited us I asked her to take her father to her house in Mumbai for a few days – so that we could get some respite – and do you know what Anil’s sister’s husband said?”

“What?” my wife asks.

 

Anil’s wife says angrily: 

“Do you know what Anil’s sister’s husband said...? That selfish brother-in-law of mine said that “he did not want an insane man in his house” as it would affect his children and their studies.”

“Really...?”

 

“Yes – he said that. So – I asked my brother-in-law: 

“What about our children...? Tell me – if it is not okay for you to have an “insane” man in your house – how is okay for us to have the same “insane” man in our house...?” 

After hearing this – he and Anil’s sister just kept quiet. And since that day – they haven’t shown up. I hate Anil’s sister. She just pays “lip service”. All she does is call up once in a while – and then she tells the whole world how concerned she is about her father...” 

“That’s really very sad – but even today – it is the sons who are expected to look after their parents – especially the eldest son...” says a colleague of Anil – who has come to the hospital. 

And then – the colleague asks Anil: 

“You also have a brother – don’t you...?”

“He is abroad – in America...” Anil says.

“That’s the best thing to do – escape abroad to a good life in America – and forget about your parents suffering back home in India.”

“Longevity is increasing – and these old people are becoming a big problem. In our colony almost everyone’s kids are in America – and their hapless parents spend a lonely existence with all sorts of health problems.”

“Don’t worry, Sir. At least your father is not as bad as my neighbour. The poor man’s brain cells are dying – and he is lying like a vegetable for the last 6 months with tubes inserted to feed him and take his stuff out...” a young girl says – she is a recently joined software engineer – and she tries to console Anil. 

The girl thinks that if she tells Anil of someone with a greater misfortune – maybe he will feel some consolation.

But unfortunately – it has the opposite effect – and Anil asks her: 

“Did he have dementia...? Will my father also become a vegetable...?”

“No – you don’t worry – nothing of that sort will happen. Your Dad will be okay...” I say – putting my hand on Anil’s shoulder.

“But we can’t keep your father at home in this condition. I cannot bear it any longer. I will just collapse one day. And now he has started getting aggressive. I am afraid of him – I will feel scared if he is at home...” Anil’s wife says.

“Why can’t we keep Anil’s father in hospital?” my wife asks.

“We can’t keep him in this hospital forever,” I say.

“Not this hospital.”

“Then which hospital...?”

“An institution. Where they can treat his mental problems.”

“A mental hospital...? You want me to put my father into a lunatic asylum...? My father is not a lunatic – he has not gone mad. Poor fellow has just got dementia – for which there is no cure...” Anil says angrily to my wife.

“Cool down Anil...” I say, “my wife did not mean to hurt you.”

My wife apologizes to Anil. 

We sit quietly till the Intensivist calls us – and the Doctor says: 

“He has stabilized now. All parameters are okay. We will move him to a special room later at night and keep him under observation. You can go home and relax now. We will look after him. You can take him home tomorrow morning.”

“You all go home...” Anil says, “I will stay with him in hospital and bring him home in the morning.”

“No...” Anil’s wife says, “I don’t want your father to come home in this condition. I am frightened of him. Suppose he gets violent or something...? Or he disappears again and he gets lost...? You will blame me. I cannot look after your father anymore. No. Please don’t bring him home. You arrange something…”

On hearing the comments of Anil’s wife – the Intensivist looks at her in a perplexed manner – so I gesture to him that “all is well” – and – I say to Anil: 

“Okay Anil – you stay here in hospital – and we will all go home and think of some solution.”

On our way home – we pick up Anil’s kids – and take all of them to our place. 

Anil’s wife sleeps in our bedroom with my wife.

All the kids sleep in their children’s bedroom.

I lie down on the sofa in the living room.

I try to think of a solution to Anil’s problem.

The ring of my mobile phone jolts me out my sleep. 

It is Anil. 

Anil’s voice sounds strange, shaky, as he cries incoherently: 

“The problem has been solved – the problem has been solved – My Father is Dead…”

“What...?” I say, stunned.

“Yes – my father is dead – while they were shifting him from the ICU to the ward on a stretcher – he got violent – so violent – that the stretcher tumbled – he fell on head – he broke his neck – and he died on the spot...” Anil says, sobbing.

“Oh My God...” I say.

I can still hear Anil sobbing: 

“Poor man. He must have heard us. So – he solved the problem – he solved his own problem – he solved our problem – he solved everyone’s problem…” 

Anil stops speaking – and there is silence. 

I keep the mobile phone pressed to my ears. 

Then – all of a sudden – I can hear Anil break down into tears.

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 
1. If you share this post, please give due credit to the author Vikram Karve
2. Please DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. Please DO NOT Cut/Copy/Paste this post
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

Disclaimer:

This story is a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the story are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright Notice:

No part of this Blog may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Blog Author Vikram Karve who holds the copyright.

Copyright © Vikram Karve (All Rights Reserved)

     

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

 

This Story THE SOLUTION was written by me more than 6 years ago in the year June 2011 and Earlier Posted Online by me Vikram Karve in my Academic and Creative Writing Journal Blog at urls: http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2011/07/solution.html  and  http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2011/09/complicated-problem-simple-solution.html  and  http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2012/01/solution-how-problem-solved-itself.html  and  http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2012/10/father-and-son.html  and  http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2013/04/blog-fiction-story-no-31-simple.html and  http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2015/10/difficult-problem-simple-solution-short.html