Funny Signs of Aging: Paunches, Rickety Knees & Chairs

What troubles me nowadays is that when I have to bend down to tie my shoe laces, the paunch gets in the way. Though this is only the body pointing to one of the funny signs of aging, these repetitive reminders can be irksome.

Other Funny Signs Of Aging

I had recently attended a wedding of a coursemate’s son in Kochi. It was a nice Christian ceremony – – decorous, dignified and elegant. Quite unlike our Hindu weddings, where the main attraction for portly aunties is loud judgements and updating of matchmaking data. Moreover, it started dot on time, which occasioned some surprise amongst us North Indian guests. In North Indian weddings you see, the mahurat time is mainly aimed at informing invitees about the date (as opposed to time) of the wedding.

For me however, even this solemn Church wedding threw up some trying times.

Church weddings firstly believe in keeping everyone active. Just, for example, as one is drifting off into a snooze lulled by the drone of lilting hymns, the Father will mercilessly ask everyone to stand for some particularly important portion of the prayers. And sit thereafter after 2-3 minutes. Only to repeat this every few minutes. While this does take the sheen off a bit, I (despite the increasing paunch), pride myself on my ability to stand for a few minutes. After all, I do put in upto, and sometimes even exceed, 300 steps per day.

Suddenly however, the Father, in a stunning display of unfatherly apathy, asked all attendees to kneel down. Admittedly, he did suggest, (while seeming to look directly at me), that those who found it difficult to do so can remain seated. I therefore, obviously, chose to kneel. The Wife looked at me quizzically, but I gave her the ‘I know what I am doing’ look and duly lowered myself onto the wooden strakes provided at Churches.

The earlier standing/sitting rituals were short affairs and I had expected therefore, that the Father would ask us to sit within a couple of minutes. I was wrong. Utterly. For apparently, the Father liked unpredictability. Or perhaps he liked to mix and match. More likely however, he just forgot.

Five minutes gone, the knees and back started protesting. Ten minutes and I had started cursing. I sneaked a look at those around me and noticed that some of the more pragmatic (or cunning) ones had surreptitiously slid back onto the benches. I however, remained somewhat unsure of the protocol. Moreover, being a Hindu at a Christian wedding, I did not want the Christians to feel that we proud Hindus are wimps.

I persevered for what seemed like two days. Finally, I could take it no more. I decided to sit. I aimed to move quietly, and as unobtrusively as possible, slide onto the bench. But the body did not cooperate and there came a moment when I was almost stuck mid way in that awkward sitting-on-an-imaginary-chair pose.  A kindly neighbour latched onto my belt and somewhat ignominiously, hauled me onto the bench. I didn’t know whether to be grateful or indignant.

And Then There Are Hindu Poojas

Still, kneeling down is not as bad as sitting on the ground. The Wife, in one her quaint ways, decided that we needed to do a ‘Griha Pravesh’ pooja (housewarming prayers) prior moving into our present house. As with all things Hindu, this turned out to be a torturous affair. Mainly because of two things: one needs to wear a dhoti/lungi and sit on the ground for 21 hours (two hours actually).  The dhoti as you may all know, has been designed by someone with a particularly wicked sense of humour where fear of wardrobe malfunction is almost a given. However, by the judicious use of a well tightened belt over the dhoti I was confident that my dignity would not be molested.

Sitting down however, was torture. But not half as bad as the getting up.

I don’t know about you, but in my case I first need to twist to my left. Then I need to place both hands on the floor. Then twist to place one, and then the other knee on the ground, with the butt in the air resembling the perfect downward facing dog yoga pose. Then in sequence, kneel and stand to the accompaniment of some vocalisation, mainly ‘Aaaah!’. (I’ve got to introduce these Pujaris to Zoom and easy chairs.)

More Funny Signs of Aging

Okay, let me qualify that. I have come to realise that even sitting on a chair can cause me grief. For strangely, while my knees and back are as old as I am, viz approaching sixty, my gluteus maximus is two decades older. It has I feel, lost its all-important cushioning/elasticity resulting in something called BCI. It stands incidentally, for Butt Cushioning Insufficiency. (I had to look it up.)

Both me and The Wife, love long drives in our car. My butt however, has a mind of its own and does not cooperate. A drive more than hour long will cause me to squirm periodically to shake off that numbing sensation, commonly called Buttockular Numbnitis, an outcome of BCI. I try to soothe it a bit by first raising one cheek for a few seconds and then the other. This innocent movement causes considerable alarm for The Wife and I see her discreetly lower the windows, under the mistaken notion that she needs to let fresh air into the car. 

And When it Comes to Chairs….

Indigo, well aware that filling the aircraft to max can only be good for the bottom line, positions chairs such that one is left jammed immobile in place. Fortunately, I am only 175 cm in height. Those taller struggle. I have seen for example, my coursemate NKR (and you can read about him further here) sitting somewhat inelegantly, with his knees jammed into his armpits. And should the heartless guy ahead of you choose to recline his seat, his Navratan oiled head will be virtually in your lap. Not pleasant.

But I have tremendous forbearance and I can take the rough with the smooth. What I can’t take are the seats. For I feel that there is some difference of opinion when it comes to thickness of the cushion. I am partial towards a nice cushy 600mm or so. Indigo, knocks off the two zeros and opts for 6mm. Result? The same Buttockular Numbnitis that I feel in a car, only multiplied by a factor of five since one is jammed in a manner such that lifting cheeks for relief is not feasible.

In Conclusion

I had always thought that getting old would take much longer. Age it is said after all, is just a number. For my knees and paunch unfortunately, it is a disconcertingly biggish number. Hence, if Orange in the new Black, Velcro is the new shoe-lace dear friends; which may also help you in ignoring at least one of the many funny signs of aging.