Not a sunset club

By Jasmine Laldinpuii KC
& Nabamita Mitra

The sixth age shifts/Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon

When William Shakespeare described the seven ages of men, little did the bard realise that there are exceptions to the rules, and in Shillong, the exceptions are way too many. For a group of men in the city, the sixth age (read: retirement) is not the time to shift into “the lean and slipper’d pantaloon” but of a new beginning, “a rebirth”.
Retirement is only a symbolic term coined by a short-sighted system with an age tag. In reality it is a metaphor for new avenues. Ask 70-year-old S. Senti Ao and he debunks the idea of retirement and laughs at the mention of old age. “What is age? It is a number that plays psychological tricks. You stop thinking about it and the problem is solved,” the septuagenarian says as he stops to inhale the fresh morning air at Malki forest.
Ao and many of his retired friends and colleagues are regular morning walkers in the forest and none of them seem to be affected by retirement. For them, post retirement is the time to realise dreams and set an example for the youth.
Ao opted for voluntary retirement from his service as a senior planning engineer in the Industries Department of the Government of India in 1994. He wanted to have his own business and redeem his freedom from the fetters of conventionality. But he never compromised on the discipline that decades of service imbibed in him.
The “young man”, as he describes himself, starts his day with a long walk and then goes off to work. “I have a construction business that I started after retirement. I feel liberated as I am the boss of my life now,” laughs Ao as his friends agree in unison.
“In fact, we are working more now than when we were in service. Besides our own ventures, we also give time to the family and look into the minute details that hitherto missed our attention,” says Kermon Passah, retired chief engineer of PWD, who also runs a construction business.
Passah, now 63, retired in 2013 and devoted himself to the family business. “We do not get a pay check every month but that does not mean we are not doing anything productive. We still contribute to the family and the society. Nothing has changed except that we feel more enthusiastic about things around us,” quips Passah as he explains his “second innings”.
A quiet gentleman who has been nodding in appreciation of what his friends feel about life after retirement steps forward to make his point. “I have heard many people complain about depression and loneliness after retirement. But those are ailments which can be easily tackled. It is all in your mind,” says MK Chhetri, retired police inspector.
After retiring from service in 2013, Chhetri started an eatery at Polo. He supervises everything at the shop and interacts with those who visit his humble restaurant. Unlike his friends Ao and Passah, Chhetri is a listener and hardly talks. But from his gestures, one can make out that he too is enjoying his retirement.
Chhetri says when in service his life was regimented. He follows the same routine. He wakes up early, gets ready for a walk, goes back and gets ready again for his “own office”. At any time of the day, the 63-year-old can be seen primly dressed.
“It is always good to be disciplined. That not just keeps you healthy but also refreshes your mind,” he says in a soft tone.
The three musketeers still have the jauntiness that is rare in people of their age. What’s the secret? “Health is wealth so take care of your health when you are young and working. It will help later in life,” advises Ao.
But the league of extraordinary gentlemen has other members too. For Anjan Nath, retirement only gave him more time for innovation and social work.
The 69-year-old retired professor does not look his age, and definitely does not act his age. He is a multi-faceted personality who delves into an array of things. At present, he is busy with INSIST, or Indian School of Innovation in Sustainability, a skill development and counselling venture, which he started with his friends and some like-minded people to help the youth of the country get employment.
“The members are scattered across the country and look after INSIST’s different chapters. I am responsible for the North East. We want to help youths get self-employed,” says Nath, who was born and brought up in Shillong but stayed away from home for 30 years.
Nath says the list of his hobbies is a long one. “I started off with stamp collection when I was a child. Then I diversified into gardening, mechanics and model plane making. I know carpentry too and would try my hand in making furniture at home. I am an environmentalist too,” he says. The lamp shades in his living room are in fact made by him, he later informs. And what about the sketch of a woman mounted on a wooden frame? “That too is by me. I tried oil painting but later switched to charcoal and pencil,” he confesses.
Nath stays alone in his well-maintained Assam-type house in Nongthymmai. The garden surrounding the house is maintained by him. “You see, in our days we formed the Shillong Orchid Society and we were the first to plant cherry blossoms in the city. I planted a few in our garden too,” he informs.
The former English professor, who taught in a university in Taiwan and has authored four books, says he came back to Shillong in 2014 and got involved into various social works, including counselling and training unemployed youth. “I had always done diverse things, even when I was working. Now with retirement, I get more time.”
Nath’s day begins at 5am and after his fitness regime, he is on his work desk by 9am. He does his writing and takes a break around 11am. Sometimes he watches birds through the telescope in his comfortable office room or takes a walk around his garden to inspect what needs to be done. “My mind is always working even when my body is resting,” he laughs heartily.
Many like Nath stay alone in the city after their children moved out of the city for career. So does loneliness creep in sometimes?
“Yes it does, especially in the afternoon when there is no one around and you have only the television set and the internet for company. In the beginning you feel happy about retirement as it is freedom from the regimented life. But gradually boredom comes,” says AJN Ahmed, a retired professor of Economics who stays alone in Bishnupur.
But Ahmed does not have any qualms about that as he feels it is natural. “So I keep myself busy. In the evening, I meet people, read and watch movies.”
Ahmed, who is one of the founding members of Umshyrpi College, helps in its administration and also teaches at St Edmund’s School but not against any salary. “This is to kill time and not for money.” He also holds talks on radio, which “I have been doing since 1958”, says the septuagenarian.
Amit Mazumdar, who retired from St Edmund’s College last year, keeps himself busy with reading. He also helps poor students with Economics, his subject. “I had always braced for the changes that comes with retirement. But I am more relaxed now and have more time for myself and my family. Right now, I have not started any venture but might delve into one if an opportunity comes. However, I maintain the earlier routine to stay healthy,” says the 62-year-old professor who retired after 32 years of service.
Mazumdar is also an avid sports lover and never misses a football or cricket match on television.
Like Mazumdar, Rajendra Kumar Rai too devotes more time to his family.
Rai, who retired as deputy commissioner of state excise department in 2012, says when in service, he hardly got time for his family but now makes up for the void.
“I was not sad when I retired and my colleagues were surprised. I told them it was a rebirth for me. Whatever I do I do it sincerely. When in service I dedicated myself to work and now I am all with my family. My wife also does not complain anymore,” says the 67-year-old.
But for 63-year-old Juliana Lyngdoh, family business is the focus after retirement. Lyngdoh runs two shops selling frozen food at Police Bazar and Laitumkhrah. “I was the first to start frozen food business in Shillong and my shops supply goods to all parts of the state. I also run a resort and restaurant at Barapani. So my days are always busy,” the 63-year-old lady says.
When asked about boredom or loneliness, Lyngdoh brushes off such apprehensions after retirement and says she does not have time for such things.

The other side

Though for a few, retirement is a new lease of life, for many it is a wishful thinking. Ram Paswan, a small vendor aged 70, says there is no retirement for people like him. “We have to earn our living. What will I eat if I retire? Those things are for government officers and people in big posts, not a commoner like me,” he says with a smile on his face but the pathos in his eyes betrays his countenance. Paswan says though his son helps him financially but that is too meager for the family and he has no option but to continue his work.
Jasbir Singh, who stays in a dingy room with his daughter-in-law and granddaughter at Punjabi Lane, feels sad that he has no earning. The 73-year-old man who worked as a cleaner says his ailments do not allow him to pursue work and he has to depend on his widowed daughter-in-law.

Grievances

Despite a prolific life after retirement and economic independence, many elderly persons that Sunday Shillong spoke to say the government in Meghalaya is not doing enough for the retired persons.
“The government should utilise the wisdom of the elderly and retired officials. It can employ retired officials as advisors in various departments as per the expertise,” says Ao.
Passah says many people are compelled to retire because there is too much political interference and pressure. Most importantly, there is no acknowledgement of work as promotions come only before retirement, he adds.
The state government is yet to start pension for retired professors and teachers and that makes things difficult for many. Ahmed says finances, if planned early, can be taken care of even after retirement. “But suppose you had planned till 75 and you go on to live till 90. Then what?”
The question lingers but this contingent of retired men and women takes heart from the present and their indomitable spirit does not allow them to give up. For them “all time is unredeemable”. So carpe diem!