Seemingly superannuated

Seemingly superannuated 

 Looking at me going places like a buzzing fly, people often asked me an indelicate question of my life’s status. They were curious to know if I continue to work, retired or semi-retired. None of your business was what I wanted to tell them. 

 I am a lazy and un-ambitious person is what remained unsaid. I am happy when left alone and to my own devices. Post my retirement, I followed this charter and really did nothing. 

 The trick was to learn doing things you had missed while working 9 am to 9 pm for decades, not answering anyone but yourself, and learning to fall freely with no one to catch you but your fate. 

 For a period of time, my retirement remained a contemporary topic amongst my family and friends. I did not realize so many people wanted me to retire. Intensity and curiosity about it became cacophonic as I crossed the milestone age of 60 and then 65. Everyone was dying to know when would I retire from a grueling, high voltage twelve hours a day, 20 days on the road, corporate job? 

 An unfathomable reason did not allow me to quit work which was neither creative nor satisfying my soul. But it was work. Besides, I worked with a bunch of nice people, lots of youngsters who allowed me to mentor them. I traveled a great deal which was enjoyable. My youthfulness remained intact due to all these. But there remained, a growing desire of breaking away from mundane daily routine. 

 So finally I retired. 

 The First effect of retirement was that it made me look for God in small things. I began to walk a lot longer than I did while working. I walked odd times and odd places, which I could not do earlier. I would be at Joggers park at 8 am, or Carter road promenade at 4 pm, and Worli sea face at 7 pm. 

 My wife and have a coffee routine of 11 am. We would be all over Bandra coffee shops deriving vicarious pleasure in seeing other people rushing to work when we sip our double espresso and Americano. 

 I enjoyed a long and hot shower for which I had no time before. I listened to the radio round the clock, humming tunes. Making espresso in our home machine became a spiritual act for me; collect special cups, peel espresso bullets from the pack, clean the machine, then draw one slug for me, second for my wife, then repeat the process, a dash of milk in mine, carry cups to the swing to wife, savor coffee, clean the machine. The entire operation is like connecting and finding my God. 

 I read newspapers endlessly, with no one to rush me. I took - unashamedly - two naps a day, one mid-morning and another mid-afternoon. I read at least three books a month. I talked to myself, sitting across my bedroom window gazing at the Arabian Sea. I walked across St Anne’s church to have tea on Pali Hill, I talked to children in our society compound, walked across to Mehboob studio for pan, and did countless such mundane and mindless things I had not done in 45 years. 

 I began to go to banks, post office, vegetable market, shoe repair shop, Adhar card office, petrol pump, and places I have not been in 25 years. My secretary and my wife had spoilt me silly by doing this back-breaking work for decades. 

 And after I am done, I would sit down and do a little work, if my mood permits, prepare my talks, my coaching sessions, work on my blog, meet people - mostly in Coffee shops. 

 I hope curious people will get my drift now.