Heavy Fuel

I saw first hand the indignities that time heaps on people when they grow old. It's not fair really. Watching someone who was once an alpha being turn into a helpless, zeta nobody. Some Red Indian tribes like the Irouquai would leave their old behind when they migrated. I wouldn't blame them. I'd rather be left behind and die in the cold, prepared to meet whatever comes my way, wolves or bears. At least I went down in a blaze of glory. Or as dinner. As nourishment for some being higher up in the foodchain than some worms underground.

It all hit home when I went to meet my uncle, my dad's elder brother. He's 14 years elder than my dad and was a stud in every sense of the word. He lost his right arm in the Indian-Pak war, and though it's been stitched back on, he hasn't been able to use it. In spite of this handicap, he's actively pursued his passions all his life. Tales abound of how he and my dad would drive across India in a Fiat Premier Padmini and later in a Maruti 800. He would light a cigarette with his left arm and lodge it between his fingers on the right arm, while driving non-stop for 9 hours at a stretch.

There's another instance where my dad, uncle and my grandfather had rushed into a cave in the jungles to escape from a sudden shower, when they heard a growl in the dark recesses of the cave. Everyone turned to see a leopard staring them down, ready to pounce, since it felt threatened and was caught with its back to the wall. My uncle calmly raised his rifle, kept it on my dad's shoulders and shot it throught the heart.

This man. This killer of leopards. This master of miles. This conquerer of fear is today afflicted with diabetese and finds it tough to climb a fleet of 5 steps.

And though my awe of him doesn't ever show signs of diminishing, no matter how old and fragile he gets, I can't help but feel that life should have been a little kinder to him. Him, of all people.

I don't want to grow old and worry about insulin shots and pensions coming to the bank and medical policies. I'd rather call it quits while I'm ahead. I am against suicide and wouldn't ever let life's problems push me into a cowardly act like that.

But is it cowardly when I'm 60 and think I have done all I can in my life? I won't be commiting suicide. I'd be retiring. From life. That's all.

Like Knopfler said

"With my ugly big car,
I'm going to climb this hill.
I'll write a suicide note,
on a hundred dollar bill.

Cos if you want to run cool,
you ve got to run on heavy fuel."