Being old sucks

The Crackling ‘Keropok’ Symphony

“YOU know you’re old when your body wakes up five minutes before you do, just to remind you that you’re no longer in charge,” Buja quipped, his tone tinged with mockery at his own expense.

He grimaced as he lowered himself gingerly onto the rattan mat across from me, his joints creaking like an old wooden door in dire need of oil. His wife, Kirin, served us cooked cassava tubers on a handmade wooden tray, her movements as efficient as ever.

Buja and Kirin were our elderly neighbours, a charming couple who lived at the very end of my weekend fishing route. This was back in the mid-1960s, their humble home a mile or so from our family’s paddy farm. Their farm, a tranquil patch of green, was a regular stop on my youthful escapades.

Kirin, a native of our remote village, between ten and fifteen miles via jungle paths that wound through the distance markers of Mile 27, Mile 29, and Mile 32 of the old Kuching-Serian Road. Buja, on the other hand, was what we called a “tami”, an outsider who had wandered into the village one day and, for reasons unknown, decided to stay. Over time, he became as much a fixture of the village as the jungle itself.

I had known the couple since the early 1960s, when I was just a boy studying at our village’s mission school. However, it wasn’t until my awkward teenage years – when I became a boarding student at a secondary school located miles away – that Buja began speaking to me on what I liked to think of as “a more mature level”.

Perhaps he saw me as a bit more educated, or I had grown tall enough to seem less like a child and more like a budding adult. Either way, his tone had shifted, and I felt, for the first time, like I was being treated as an equal.

“You don’t look that old, Uncle!” I protested.

“That’s what I always tell him,” Kirin chimed in, rolling her eyes with affection that only decades of marriage could produce.

“I mean, seriously – why does my spine crack like someone opening a packet of ‘keropok’?” Buja groaned, rubbing his back theatrically for emphasis.

“He’s just exaggerating,” Kirin said, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. “Look at the farm! He’s done most of the work himself.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Buja conceded, “but I don’t bounce out of bed anymore. No, now I creak and groan like a door hinge every time I try to stand up. And don’t even get me started on my knees. They used to be strong – like tree trunks! Now they’re more like two grumpy coworkers who only show up to complain.”

I laughed, savouring the moment. Little did I know that it would be the last time I sat with the old couple. Life has a way of pulling you along its unrelenting currents. I finished high school, moved to Kuching for work, and before I knew it, years had passed. The rhythm of urban life – a seemingly organised chaos of schedules and obligations – kept me too busy to return.

But time, as it always does, had its way with me. As the years rolled on, I found myself thinking more and more about my conversations with Buja and Kirin. Their words, once mere banter, now echoed with a wisdom I hadn’t fully grasped at the time. And then one day, after decades of work, I retired. That was when I realised the truth: getting old is the universe’s cruellest prank.

First, it dangles the illusion of invincibility in front of you. Remember those days when you could party until dawn, eat an entire plate of ‘nasi goreng’ at 2:00 am, and still manage to jog the next morning? Yeah, those days are gone.

But it’s not just your body falling apart – it’s everything else too. Society expects you to “age gracefully”, whatever that means, all while making you feel irrelevant the moment you don’t understand what “cheugy” means. Spoiler alert: I looked it up, and I’m still confused.

Aches, Pains, and Body Betrayal

Let’s talk about the absolute betrayal that is the human body after a certain age. A while back, I went to bed one night feeling fine, and I woke up in the morning with a stiff neck. And don’t get me started on back pain. My lower back is a diva – it demands attention at the worst possible times, like when I’m bending over to pick up something light, such as a sock. A sock!

And why does everything crack now? My knees, my elbows, even my ankles – each joint seems to have its sound effect. I’m like a one-person percussion band every time I try to stand up. Sometimes, I’ll hear a pop and think, “Oh no, what was that?” But then I realise nothing hurts … yet. It’s like my body is giving me a courtesy warning: “This one’s fine for now, but wait until tomorrow.”

And let’s not forget about food. You know the old saying, “You are what you eat”? Well, I’m a simmering bowl of regret. The foods I used to love – the spicy curries, the laksa, the late-night cold rice with ‘ikan masin’ – they’ve all turned on me.

And don’t even think about caffeine after 6:00 pm unless you want to stare at the ceiling all night, contemplating every bad decision you’ve ever made.

Exercise? Oh, that’s cute. I tried to do stretching the other day because some smug YouTube influencer said it would “rejuvenate my soul”. Instead, I hurt a muscle in my hip and ended up waddling around like a penguin. And let’s talk about sleep, or rather, the lack of it. Why is it that my body is exhausted by 8:00 pm, but the moment my head hits the pillow, my brain decides it’s time to replay every embarrassing thing I’ve ever done since 1960?

Honestly, the body’s betrayal is relentless. It’s like your own personal soap opera, except there’s no dramatic music – just the sound of your knees creaking and grinding like they’re auditioning for ‘America’s Got Talent’.

Generational Clashes

Now, let’s get into the real fun: dealing with the younger generation. I’m not saying they’re the problem, but let’s just say they’re not exactly the solution either. Have you tried having a conversation with someone under 25 lately? It’s like trying to decode a secret language. “Slay”, “vibe check”, “no cap” – what do they all mean? And why does everyone on TikTok look like they’re having a seizure while calling it a dance?

And then there’s the technology. Oh, the sweet, sweet torture of modern gadgets. I remember when phones were just … phones. You picked them up, you dialled a number, and you talked. Simple. Now, my phone is a tiny computer that judges me every time I forget my password.

But it’s not just the tech; it’s their whole vibe. They’re so confident. Have you noticed that? They post selfies like they’re starring in a Vogue photoshoot, while I can barely figure out which angle doesn’t make me look like a potato. And don’t even get me started on their energy levels. They go to work, hit the gym or some side-hustle, and then go out for drinks – all in the same day. Meanwhile, I need a nap just from watching Elon Musk talk about space travel.

But here’s the thing: as much as they drive me crazy, I have to admit, I’m a little jealous. They’ve got their whole lives ahead of them, while I’m over here trying to remember why I walked into the kitchen. They have endless opportunities, and I have a drawer full of massage vibrators. It’s not fair, but hey, at least I can grumble about it – and isn’t that the real joy of getting older?

Societal Expectations and Cultural Shifts

Let’s talk about society – because if there’s anything more annoying than ageing, it’s the absurd expectations that come with it. I’m supposed to “age gracefully”. What does that mean? Please – I feel more like an old cat that just fell into a water-logged ditch.

And the wellness industry? Every day, there’s a new way to “stay young forever”. Green juice. Pilates. Collagen. Meditate. Sleep eight hours. Avoid stress. Avoid stress? I’m stressed just reading this list!

Worst of all is the pressure to “stay relevant”. Social media, memes, personal brands – what happened to just living? If you don’t have a curated Instagram or Facebook and a side hustle, you’re failing adulthood. Sorry, I’m not starting a podcast or learning to code – I’ll just be over here looking for my reading glasses.

The Silver Lining (Sort Of)

So yes, being old sucks. Your body betrays you, tech-savvy kids these days confuse you, and society expects you to age like a Hollywood star. But you know what? There’s a silver lining to all this chaos: you’ve earned the right to stop caring. Don’t like my outfit? Too bad. Think I’m out of touch? Deal with it. I’ve spent decades putting up with everyone else’s nonsense, and now it’s my turn to be unapologetically grumpy.

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“Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.” – Mark Twain (1835–1910), an American author and humourist, widely regarded as one of the greatest writers in American literature.

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DISCLAIMER:

The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of the Sarawak Tribune. The writer can be reached at www.hayhenlin@gmail.com