<img style="float: left;" src="http://images.mid-day.com/images/images/2022/jun/Rahul-op_e.jpg" alt="Rahul Da Cunha" width="200" height="69" />On Friday, I officially became a senior citizen.
(The big news is that I am now eligible for half price BEST tickets&mdash;travel concessions on Air India, and 0.1 per cent extra interest on FDs).
Senior citizenship finally gives me some respectability, having had to carry the cross of &ldquo;Baby Boomer&rdquo; all these years.
Unlike the moniker &ldquo;Gen Z&rdquo;, which has such gravitas and &ldquo;Millennial&rdquo;, with that dystopian futuristic feel, &ldquo;Baby Boomer&rdquo; is so &ldquo;meh&rdquo; in its lightweightedness.
Though the shortened &ldquo;Boomer&rdquo; does improve the &ldquo;cool factor&rdquo; a bit.
I feel the 40s was the &ldquo;aspire decade&rdquo;, 50s, the &ldquo;assess decade&rdquo;, &nbsp;and 60 is the right time for the &ldquo;asanas decade&rdquo;&hellip; to combat that clich&eacute;, &ldquo;Age is just a number.&rdquo; &nbsp;
Allow me dear reader, some stream of consciousness ramdomness, as I wrap my head around turning 60.
If 50 was Everest Base camp, 60, is when the steep, rocky climb to the summit begins.&nbsp;
Regrets can go either way&mdash;The &ldquo;Wish I had&rdquo; broadsheet divides into two lists&mdash;&ldquo;Dreams&rdquo; or &ldquo;Dustbin&rdquo;. For instance, the &ldquo;wish I had learnt to jive&rdquo; still has hope depending on how my legs and the lungs can weather the JJ Roderigues Cors de Dance classes, whereas the &ldquo;wish I could explore Damascus&rdquo; has the high risk of a land mine end or imprisonment by a rogue Syrian government.
So at 60, its really, carpe diem.&nbsp;
The decision to &ldquo;Reflect on the scars or still reach for the stars&rdquo; is purely one&rsquo;s own.
On a lighter note, it&rsquo;s still a no no about being called &ldquo;uncle&rdquo;&mdash;here&rsquo;s how I feel:&nbsp;
I&rsquo;m not your uncle, kaka, mama or chacha. So call me either by my first name, &ldquo;bro&rdquo; or &ldquo;dude&rsquo;&rsquo;. All else is rude.&nbsp;
You call me &ldquo;uncle&rdquo;, You get my knuckle&rdquo;.
I work much with young people, especially the aforementioned Gen Z and Millennials, I wanna tell the kids, &ldquo;Cut the arrogance, trim the attitude, you don&rsquo;t have all the answers, coz you don&rsquo;t know any of the real questions&hellip; yet.&rdquo;
(And oh yes&hellip; blue skies will always outweigh blue screens).
I truly mean no condescension&mdash;rebellion needs a cause. Fighting parents is easy, but can you fend off the politics? Can you find a philosophy that&rsquo;s a departure of &ldquo;I me mine&rdquo;.&nbsp;
At 60, the searchlight turns inward to ask that burning question of oneself: &ldquo;what&rsquo;s the anger?&rdquo; In other words, &ldquo;what still wakes you up in the morning with purpose&hellip; what&rsquo;s the passion still in you? What still needs to be achieved?&rdquo;
Crucially, do I forgo the previously chosen &ldquo;lose the battle to win the war&rdquo; to &ldquo;forget the war&hellip; to win the battles&rdquo;.
Am I angry about the state of the city, unrecognisable in its present form&mdash;that the deep blue sea is hindered by gross yellow signs. Do I just look the other way, do I go up in arms or recline back with the armchair criticism.
Do I care who leads me, same sociopathy, same apathy, different day, my city, mores the pity, am I disillusioned with the illusion?, disgusted with the smoke screen,&nbsp; as we slowly descend from &ldquo;India Shining&rdquo; to &ldquo;India Extinguished&rdquo;, is our destiny, men with dyed hair? attempting to seem youthful, with ideas of deep regression, not a hint of humanity, 50 shades of hate, that never seems to abate.
I promised myself no nostalgia. 60 is too early for that annoying, &ldquo;I remember when...&rdquo; And yet&hellip;
Where did the &rsquo;80s go? an age&hellip; everyone overly-wired, non-inspired, toxic vibe, diatribe, the era of illogic,
I know one thing at 60&hellip;
Don&rsquo;t let the old man in&hellip;&nbsp;
Note to self&mdash;&nbsp;
&ldquo;60 is the new 70&rdquo; if you temper the calories.&nbsp;
&ldquo;60 is the new 50&rdquo; if you temper the cynicism, up the curiosity.
To sum up, &ldquo;60 is pretty much the new 60&rdquo;.
I&rsquo;m off to cut my cake and eat it too.
Rahul daCunha is an adman, theatre director/playwright, photographer and traveller. Reach him at rahul.dacunha@mid-day.com
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Crucially, do I forgo the previously chosen `lose the battle to win the war` to `forget the war… to win the battles`

I am 60 going on 70

Two Gods in our brain

Crucially, do I forgo the previously chosen 'lose the battle to win the war' to 'forget the war… to win the battles'

I am 60 going on 70

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I am 60 going on 70

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