Old Age and NRIs

NRIs face a question that few voice, but every NRI knows that each one is thinking about it. At least it has occurred to everyone, and the younger one is, the easier it is to push the question aside, but the question nags periodically. Where should one spend the last stage or old age of one’s life – back in the mother country or in the new land with sons, daughters and a sprinkling of relatives scattered about the country? Some, perhaps many, want to get old in the old country, but one’s nearest and dearest all live in the new country. To many who have lived abroad for 20, 30 or 40 years, the new country is still alien – one is very comfortable, but it is just not the same as being an Indian in India, where you relate instantly to other brown people. Where others relate instantly to you. Where there is no question of being slighted for being different – nothing overt, mind you, just not getting the best table in a restaurant, just being ignored until someone else who came into the store at the same time as you is first taken care of as you walk up to the counter. Of course, most Westerners are too polite to ignore you if you were obviously first! The list goes on – the policeman who asks the local person his version of what happened before he asks you, if you were involved in a minor fender-bender. Very rarely (particularly as you grow older and more affluent), you will hear someone say "Go back to your own country!", and when you do its generally from a frustrated member of the so-called "white trash" community!

Never mind all of that, that is just the result of conditioning we are not even aware of. But where should one spend the last stage of one’s life? The isolation one feels in the West as one grows old is scary – the next couple of generations is living life head-on and really has no time for your isolation and loneliness. They want you to get over the fears. They love you, but have so many demands on their time! Their own children are constantly demanding of their time! It isn’t that there is no isolation and loneliness in India – the only constant company you might get is that of the house cleaner who comes every day to sweep the floors and the “bai” who does the utensils. And the milkman and sabjiwala who shows up at the doorstep every day. The talkative neighbour who stops by every day to share her gossip. The kids from the apartment complex who shout and play cricket and won’t let you take your afternoon nap. And soon your day is full – from morning to evening. Perhaps there is something to be said about growing old in your own country!