A mobile phone can be many things at once. A Telegraph picture

Browsing the Internet the other day I came across this strange little poem:

Life is indeed grossly unfair/Now I’m older and still have my wits/I’ve finally got me head together/And my body is now falling to bits.

That bad? I thought to myself. Growing old gracefully is no longer about whether you dye your hair or not, though a decision on that might add to your confidence. It is also no longer about finding one’s niche in a joint family and enjoying the constant presence of children, grandchildren: one’s own and those of one’s siblings.

Borrowing from the lyrics of a TV serial that seemed to go on forever, Ghar Ghar Ki Kahani is not about large, comfortable or uncomfortable joint families. Har ghar ki kahani might equally be about elderly people living alone or with an equally ageing partner and beset with problems of health, insecurity, immobility, of loneliness, boredom, and orthopaedic, vision or hearing impairment, of actual and imaginary illnesses and children far away. Can we confront these problems and enjoy the outcome?

After many years at work we have earned the right to live our retired lives in health, honour and dignity and yes, with fun.

The insurance companies that advertise their pension plans with feckless men going off from Lucknow to Kanpur for a cup of coffee, or to Calcutta to attend the wedding of the daughter of a newly found friend, have the right idea. I also love the one in which an elderly husband teases his wife about how she will have to do housework again, not because they are hard up in his retirement, but “... tumhe Singapore dikhane ke liye!”

We have come a long way from the exploited or neglected “oldies” of the tearjerker films. We refuse to be dazzled by the techno-savvy GeNext around us. We shall use as much of the hi-tech we can successfully come to terms with. As the quizmasters say, our time starts now.

Let’s face it. Old age is not for wimps. One does need a certain chutzpah, a sense of humour, an ability to withstand depleting physical resources, a capacity to enjoy one’s own company, a readiness for physical and intellectual exercise.

The resistance to technology in older people sometimes reaches Luddite proportions. I felt the same way about the cellphone at first. I thought it would be a dreadful intrusion on my privacy. I did not always want to be within reach. Even now when a credit card company or the cellphone company rings up to offer yet another credit card or phone, I find myself ready to use foul language, especially when s/he disturbs a much-needed siesta. You do however have the option of switching the mobile off or to put it in silent mode.

The advantages totally outweigh the disadvantages. Bad news and good news are instantly conveyed. The memory of a cellphone stores all the numbers you are likely to need. Much better than the telephone book you filled out so painstakingly that has disappeared below a pile of papers just when you need it. The cellphone too might disappear sometimes but you can always ring your number from a landline or someone else’s phone.

I have in my cellphone all the numbers of loved ones, doctors, hospitals, nursing centres and oxygen cylinder suppliers. Even more pressingly, mobile numbers for plumber Natabar, electrician Shamshad for one kind of electrical problem and Chhotu for another, CESC, various repairmen, the taxi and car hire agencies, the driver’s number, the local chemist who sends a compounder round to give an injection, restaurants and local caterers, banks, the tax man, investment person, you name it. You can find a number even in the dark. (Remember to wear you spectacles, though!)

Wear my ring around your neck and you will never feel alone, ran a popular song in my youth. I give that place of pride to my cellphone now. In your pocket or in a belt around your waist, but always have it beside you.

I believe in texting the children ahead of speaking to them as I never know when I shall be disturbing something important otherwise.

This appears to be the part of the cellphone that most upsets seniors, unused to using their fingers. It is worth it to acquire this little skill. Predictive text takes a little practice but is even easier to use once you know what to do. Start with a very basic phone and have a young person around 12 or 13 to help you. Don’t be offended at his/her impatience: “Didima, how did you ever do embroidery? You have thick, rigid fingers!” The kids get you there in the end. And while you are about it, tell the brat to teach you how to erase text messages.

Happy texting until we meet again.

Sajni Mukherji

This interactive column will address issues of old age. The writer, a former professor of English at Jadavpur University and a happy senior citizen, can be contacted at sajni.mukherji@gmail.com