Monday, November 18, 2013

sob... sob......I'm retiring...sob..sob....

Now that the bewailing and lamenting is over, shall we pause, take a deep breath and look back? Perhaps it's time?

Sachin's case we shall presently examine, but in general, why do retirements bring forth a never-seen- before stress on the retiree's  lacrymal glands?  As if there is no tomorrow? As if this is the apocalypse?  As though there would arise no future occasion to flood the soil with that salty fluid?  Haven’t we all witnessed the spectacle of  even the iron men, stone men, super men and the spider men gingerly removing their spectacles and sob to their heart’s content? Melt and go weak on the knees?   This tear jerking phenomenon itself can be a subject for psychoanalysts to explore, but that’s another story.

One reason behind all this watery exploits   may be the sense of insecurity or inadequacy the retiree has all along conveniently hid deep inside, while being busy with his career. Retirement day is the closest thing to the experience of death, a near-death experience, before the actual event arrives unannounced.  You know, stuff the seers say, like the soul leaving the body, and observing one’s own corpse from aside, with deep disinterest.  Like, when at the precise moment of death, the entire life gone-by would glide by in a slide-show.  Who relishes such slide-shows?  We would rather be a hero in our own films thank you very much, rather than standing aside and watch our escapades of 60 years in a deathly slide-show.

Till today, 5 p.m., you were a Commissioner of Income Tax, wielding such godly powers. At 5.01, you are a nobody.  The designation sign-board will give you company only till you exit that corner office.  The colleagues of forty years would give you company only up to the building’s exit door. The chauffeur would give you company only till the doors of your home. Who will give you company thereafter? (curiously,  the Tamil song veedu varai uravu... comes to mind).

Why even the wife will not be enamoured of you after three days.  (It could be early, but we can presume that those 3 days immediately succeeding retirement will be spent by the spouse counting the farewell gifts). From the fourth day, while wondering who to send for fetching grocery and vegetables, you could be counted by her as one of the options.  From the seventh day, you would be mildly suggested to go out for walks instead of sitting glued to the TV, as that would be ‘relaxing’.  You would protest that you are already on the same pursuit but she would rather you relax out in the open, away from home.    From the tenth day, you would suspect (just a suspicion) that the coffee proferred to you has lost some of its viscosity. And on all days since the Aadhar camp opened in the neighborhood, you would be lovingly advised to join the queue at 5.30 brahma muhurtham (good for health, she would say, with so much ozone around) and pick up the token.  All this, despite the retiree being a pensioner.  If he retires without a pension, may God save him (no, I'm not referring to Tendulkar).  On second thoughts, God too would not dare.

It's natural that the very thought of all the above contributes to increased levels of stress.  And causes the retirees to cry and cry and cry on the retirement day dreading the days ahead. Forget the epithets such as men of steel, iron, stone, IAS, Secretaries, General Managers and all that stuff.  All the high and mighty are poor lambs and just that in the slaughter house called home, post-retirement.  So cry, cry, cry, cry to your heart's content.  Who said crying is sizzy?  It just became manly on Martyrs’ day, Nov.16, when half the country was crying and proudly at that.  The retiree was crying, the retirer was crying and the onlookers too.  Don't children cry enroute to school?  Don't slaughter animals cry when being taken to the abattoir? 

Now Sachin's case is different.  For one, he will not be sent by Anjali to fetch grocery and vegetables.  He will not be mildly reminded of the benefits of walking.  He will not be asked to drop children to school and pay the utility bills.  Anjali famously said she cannot think Sachin without cricket but she glossed over a vital point.  Sachin minus cricket is not zero.  He is a mini world bank on the move.  States like Tripura and Bihar might even consider taking loans from him at a better rate than what GOI gives.  Moreover, this retiree was handed an additional retiral benefit of Bharat Ratna.  It wouldn't look nice if a loaded Bharat Ratna goes shopping for aloo and bindi. So Sachin is different.  Even in his case, it's just that bit possible that the world might forget him after say 10 years, as Miandad gleefully pointed out. (He loves taking potshots at Indians, doesn’t he?).  Maybe Dawood’s Sambandi has a point there.

So Sachin’s  is different. But most other retirements are the same.  They creepily advance towards you, slowly and surely, inch by inch, day by day, till on the D day, you are firmly in its grip.  Retirement is surer than death, more painful than death, predictable, yet unescapable, and no Sati Savitri can save you from its clutches.  It is, therefore, in the retiree's interests to be prepared for it, by making some adjustments just prior to retirement. Like taking up the habit of walking, reducing the number of coffees per day, getting inured to watery coffees, knowing where the grandson's school is, knowing how much per kg onion costs and sharpening the art of bargaining.  Aloo brought home without bargaining is akin to a bride brought home without dowry in the average Indian household.

 If the prospective retiree does not prepare, he is doomed.  Beware,  hell hath no fury than a retired babu's wife!






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