Generational break

Brexit has sent shockwaves around the world! In this vote to embrace change, the outpouring of angst is from the young people. After four decades of same old, same old, one might have expected them to welcome change. But no, the older age groups dream of new reality outside of the EU!

Millennials have taken to the streets in protest. Bucketfuls of ketchup underscore the verdict as a "bloody joke"! This generation thrives in Diversity, and on foreign soil. Now they face uncertainties. They perceive the country turning inwards culturally. The outrage is at its becoming isolationist. They fear their world shrinking down to one small island. 

Baby Boomers spearheaded the concept of globalization some decades ago. Then they advocated open borders - but for business purposes. The migration of other nationalities into their world was perhaps never considered. Now they fear cultural invasions, and Brexit presents opportunity to reclaim their distinct national identity.

The two generations, once close because of globalization, now plant in opposing camps. The bonhomie is lost. Bitter political rhetoric stokes differing views of the concept to ignite the fears for the future.

In a tv discussion after the referendum, the hostility was apparent. While a young millennial guest spoke her piece, an older fellow guest repeatedly interrupted her flow to question her stand. Clearly incensed, she vented that, as the privileged white male whose generation had already taken away their future, he now wanted to also take away her airtime! 

From across the world, it appears as if the advocates of the change did not themselves believe in Brexit actually coming to pass. Now that they have it, there is backpedaling on claims. Most importantly, they seem at a loss for plans to consolidate and take forward the change.

Consequences to the verdict, however, were immediate. Many that had voted swayed by emotions, regret the outcome.The markets fell. The currency value reached its lowest in three decades. Investors grew jittery. Some trading had to be suspended. Scotland wants independence. EU leaders adopt a hard line. And then at Euro 2016, England falls to shock defeat against tiny Iceland...

Save the last dance

In modern India, older age groups have a problem. Actually, they may even be the problem. After decades of nurturing others, they forget how to nurture themselves. Society forgets about them as well. Elsewhere in the world, we hear 60 is now the new 40! But that memo, for sure, is yet to be received here.

I visit an upcoming housing complex. Their marketing executive tells me that the place is self-sufficient. Residents do not need to step outside the area for any activity or entertainment. With a few thousand high-rise flats, it is like a little town in itself. He reels off the modern in-house facilities, now an inseparable part of urban living – shopping mall, multiplex theatre, gymnasium and health spa, children’s play centre, community hall, and so on. He is eager for me to understand that they have thought of everything. 

What about senior citizens? I ask. A flourish of his arm takes in a passageway with about a dozen armchairs. I stare in surprise. Is that all the activity retirees merit – a sit down and chat? It is almost like waiting to die. That the elderly are viewed as completely spent is disquieting. The metabolism may have slowed down, but the minds are still active, thinking, creating. May be more, in fact, now that the distractions of youth have been seasoned. I dream of ageing gracefully, not of being relegated to a trash heap of uselessness!

For years the older age-group shoulders responsibility for the future. First, it is more important to focus on a good education to go up in life, then, there are job priorities, and finally, family and children take precedence. The little time remaining in hand for them must look bleak when the social consideration they earn as returns is poor. Surely, the ageing deserve something a bit more imaginative!

Society may not mean to discriminate, but its majority associates this group with little other than medical needs. It pushes the elderly to think negatively about themselves too, when the opposite is just as true. Now that responsibilities are largely over, it is opportunity for them to refocus on the self. Post-retirement, one finally has time to develop freely what has been left remote for years. Maybe childhood aspirations saved in some corner of memory could be resurrected. Discovering the simple joy of learning new skills, for instance. 

Certainly, the assumptions of suspended animation need to be question, and yes, a few waves created in chasing dreams. From my very long-term memory, I dredge one up - Dance.  I was captivated with it, but was then too young to join the class the three older girls in our joint family were going to. Later, they told me. Alas, by then, the older girls gave up on it, one by one. The family was convinced that, by association, so would I. Dancers only get fat later on, they told me, better to learn to sing.

A dream shatters at a very impressionable age. It is not forgotten, just buried in memory as failure, never pursued again. I imagine putting the pieces together, to see what comes of it.  Out of respect for the childhood goal, I could at least give it a try. In fact, the exercise might be more interesting than the chatting envisaged as the appropriate old age pastime. 

My age-mates laugh at my craziness. Seriously, time to stop, they tell me in parental tones, you’ve danced around a lot before in your life. Yes, but that was a different spin of dancing. Bouncing around is perhaps a more appropriate term to use - changing subjects of study, changing job fields, and changing homes.

I suppose they mean for me to have stability in my life, to be completely predictable, and like furniture, to just be there. The mistake is in thinking there is safety in an environment controlled to keep everything the same. Fact is the only constant in life is change. Accept that, and one is ready to adapt to any new reality.

I set about finding the dance school to attend. I look them up and decided to ‘phone a couple located close by for details. Initially, they are most welcoming. I’m just the kind of enthusiastic person they need in their class, they tell me. There are two broad categories, Indian and Western, and under them, innumerable styles and specializations: bharatnatyam, kathak, odissi, salsa, samba, zumba, and more besides. For an absolute beginner, Indian or Western makes no difference. At the moment, it is more a question of what might be a little easier to do. The schools promise guidance, and incidentally, telephonic admissions are also possible.

In the end, I ask the most important question, the age limit. They assure me there isn’t any. Student over a-year-and-a-half in age is all. They misunderstand. At the other end, I clarify. My query puzzles them. Adult? They respond tentatively, like it is a question. I tell them I’m in search of a senior citizens class. The silence wafting down the telephone line is telling! I can feel their interest wane. Senior citizens don’t do these classes. But there is a sop. I can join in with the kids in the beginners' class, if I want.

I decide on not for now. Surely, senior citizens have the gumption to organize their own activities! It may feel a little awkward at first, but to just think, they don’t need to impress anybody or please the world any more. When there are no classes for seniors, go to Plan B. The point is to learn. Technology is freely available, so why not take advantage of online instructions. I search the ‘Net and find a slew of tutorials. They all say joining an actual class is the best way to learn, and I couldn’t agree more. However, a saying in India is that having a blind uncle is better than having no uncle at all. 

The dance is, at last, for me! I decide to choose something with rhythm. I close my eyes and make a stab at the computer screen. Salsa, it is, a sexy dance from Cuba. It may be an ambitious project, but well, I’m not about to become a performer. The aim is to prove that this also can be achieved. I try to emulate moves from the video clips. They don’t look impossible to remember. Right, left, right … Left, right, left … Like walking. With a wish held this long, touchwood, I might even get it.