When a person can no longer look after himself, it is time for him to call it a day. This is easier said than done. For one, with the onset of old age you perforce begin to rely on your family and friends to help you out. For years I have left it to my daughter to sort out the dozens of pills that I have to swallow morning and evening. It saves me a lot of bother. Since I can no longer drive my own car, I sold it. Whenever I have to visit my eye-specialist, I ask Kum Kum Chaddha to take a couple of hours off from her office to take me to him. I can still walk short distances unaided but prefer doing so holding somebody by the arm. When climbing or coming down the steps I need two people to help me go up and down. All this is understandable at my age and not too demanding. I manage to meet my deadlines, put in a bit of reading and earn my keep. I comfort myself with the idea that I can still look after myself doing things that matter and can put off the day of reckoning for some time more.

Soon I may not be able to stand on my feet and have to be pushed around in a wheelchair, or hire nurses for tending to me. To spare my family all the trouble I am causing them, I may go to an old people’s nursing home to be looked after by a qualified staff of doctors and nurses. Surely that would be a clear indication that the time to quit is at hand. It needs enormous will power to make your exit. It is easier for people afflicted with terminal diseases or acute, unbearable pain when they decide to end their lives.

My late friend, Minoo Masani, the Swatantra Party leader, founded an organization called “Die with dignity” with the aim that a person must have the freedom to take his or own life without the post mortem explanation attributing the act to an imbalance of the mind. However, when it came to himself, Minoo took a second wife when he was in his late eighties. He died of old age in his nineties. The one person who, while still in good health, decided to call it a day was Acharya Vinoba Bhave — he starved himself to death. The Jains approve of self-extinction when they feel they have had enough of life.

It is at this critical juncture that the religion of those who believe is of some help. The Gita says that all that are born must die, all that die are reborn. The first part is manifestly true; no one is sure about the second part, except those who have faith in afterlife. Likewise, religions like Christianity and Islam believe in the day of judgement and the resumption of life in heaven or hell after a person dies. Muslims quote the Quran — Ina Lilahi wa inat Lilahi Rajioon — “What comes from Allah returns to Allah”. This means that if all authority resides in Allah then no one can question the veracity of the belief in afterlife. I am not sure whether Muslims will agree with my interpretation.

Finally comes the problem of the ways of going about it. The most favoured method of extinguishing one’s life — the easiest and the least messy way — is to take an overdose of sleeping pills or a capsule of cyanide. For sleeping pills one has to have a doctor’s prescription. I have no idea how people acquire cyanide.

Yardsticks of success

The commonest method used to measure success is to find out how much wealth a person has. It is as good a guess as any provided that wealth is self-earned and not inherited. Thus families such as the Ambanis, Tatas or Birlas must not be regarded as successful unless their individual members have made personal contributions to producing new items for public consumption. Azim Premji is a self-made man of wealth who gave the country something it did not have. So, in her own way, has Shahnaz Hussain, who made cosmetics manufactured in India acceptable in foreign countries.

Another yardstick by which to measure success is recognition — not necessarily by the State but by the public. Here again one must guard oneself against getting carried away by the acclaim it brings. Men and women in the film and television world are almost sure to be recognized by millions of film and TV addicts. By any reckoning, Amitabh Bachchan would be regarded as India’s greatest success story, as would be his newly acquired daughter-in-law, Aishwarya Rai, because of her stunning good looks. Bachchan has a lot more to him than just the status of being the best actor India has ever produced. He is also a good man. I also accord Shabana Azmi similar esteem. She is not only good to look at but also a gifted actress and a dedicated social worker.

Then there are successful personalities in the realm of literature, music and the fine arts. We have Amitav Ghosh, Salman Rushdie and Vikram Seth, who put India on the world map of English writing. In music we have Amjad Ali Khan, Bhimsen Joshi, Zubin Mehta and the Mangeshkar sisters. In the fine arts we have M.F. Husain, Anjolie Ela Menon, Satish Gujral, Arpana Caur and a few others whose works can be seen in art galleries round the globe.

And finally, there are men and women who don’t give a damn to whether people recognize them as successful or not. They are the greatest in the three categories I have listed. We had Mother Teresa: she was nothing to look at, unconcerned about what people thought of her work, and oblivious to the veneration she received. And we have Prakash Amte and his wife, Mandakini, who are unconcerned about their success.

Acid test

“There is a theory around that if a fellow doesn’t smoke, drink, overeat, or go with girls, he’ll live a lot longer. The trouble is, we won’t know for sure until somebody tries it.”

(Courtesy: Shivtar Singh Dalla, Ludhiana)