In 1947, while in the fifth form in the Government High School at Mulanthuruthy in what is today central Kerala, I learned by heart ‘The seven ages of man’ from As You Like It . Almost 70 years later, I haven’t forgotten even a bit of it. It is surprising how old memories are often well preserved all through one’s life while the newer ones seem to just fade away leaving no trace.
Recently we commemorated the four hundredth death anniversary of William Shakespeare. The BBC broadcast a special programme. It enlivened the seven ages of man depicted by the Bard. The human life-span used to be put at threescore and ten. These days this assumption has become rather meaningless. Human longevity in general has been considerably stretched. I have in fact crossed fourscore and four, and as tradition would have it, have seen a thousand full moons.
Suddenly a strange desire came up in my mind. I thought it was time I figured out my station in life in the grid conceived by Shakespeare.
The verse from As You Like It (Act II, Scene vii)goes thus: “…Last scene of all,/ That ends this strange eventful history,/ Is second childishness and mere oblivion,/ Sans teeth, sans ears, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.”
The parameters
Well, this seems to me roughly, but not quite, where I’m currently stationed. Oblivion. Of course, to a great extent apt, but not absolutely. Teeth. I still have a few. I can’t crack hard nuts, but can manage to mash soft fruits. Ears. I can’t hear whispers, but can very well read lips and decipher what someone else is saying. Eyes. I still have both intact. The lenses had become opaque. A surgeon replaced the opaque lens in the right eye with a transparent one. It has given me reasonably good monocular vision. I can’t read The Hindu closely anymore. But the Good Lord has provided a pair of good eyes as spare: my good wife gracefully takes time off her household schedule to read out to me. She scans, filters and chooses what I need from the newspaper, and from the books I adore. Taste. I have not stopped enjoying a whiskey or two. Thus, it seems in my case all the tele-senses are more or less intact and reasonably satiated.
Now the reader may be tempted to think that I can’t possibly have anything to regret, and much less to grumble. On the contrary, there are a lot of obstacles and impediments in the path of my daily life.
The functions The tele-senses inform us of what happens around us and in the environment. These senses are aided by two other inter-related sensory systems, called kinaesthesia and vestibular senses. These two senses working in concert is known as proprioception, and it tells us the orientation of our bodies in space, the relative position of the various body parts, and their movement.
In my case, there is a near-total breakdown of this internal communication system. Often I am not aware where the different parts of my body are located. Even when the feet are on the ground I can’t gauge how firmly they are set there. Thus, walking has become very difficult, and driving indeed impossible.
A silver lining recently emerged on this dark and gloomy scene. Queen Elizabeth appeared on the BBC. The 90-year-old was walking elegantly and majestically on the Buckingham Palace grounds, escorted by the 94-year-old Duke of Edinburgh.
The couple was receiving birthday greetings and applause from the public. That evening the Duke drove Barack Obama to dinner, with the Queen and Michelle Obama in the rear seat.
The Queen and the Duke have now given me vigour and strength. I feel heartened. With a few more vitamin pills, a graded exercise regimen, some diet control, and with the opaque lens replaced, I might not only just walk but run. Why, I might as well drive my good old car. It appears the time is not yet ripe for me to make an exit.
kuruvilla_mj@bsnl.in
