<img alt="" src="/imagedata/2010/jun/nanjappa.jpg" align="left" border="0" />You know you're definitely middle aged and over the hill when those peppyily cute college girls look at you and without batting a false eye-lid say "Uncle! Please hold the lift!" The years creep up at you silently. And suddenly wham! Bam! You're talking like your parents and starting many sentences with "Remember when..." u00a0 The kids in my office looked at me aghast when I once let it slip that I was born before MTV was in India. I couldn't let it be known that I was actually born even before colour TV was known on national shores. Yikes, these unforgiving kids can't even remember so far back as pre-colour screens on their phones. You know you're middle aged when you have memories of cycling down a city road, in peak hours, and actually having place to cycle in. But you are definitely over the hill, when you let it be known that in the "good old days" there was no McDonalds, Domino's or KFC. (Gasp! Just the thought of going through an entire summer holiday without a platter of pepperoni would be enough to turn young gelled hair, grey with stress!) You know you've lost the anti-collagen race when you remember your relatives who lived on foreign shores bringing back Yardley powder for your mum. When you warmly reminisce about Victoria ufffd and the Vic you mean was a gracious old hotel ufffd and not of the Beckham ilk. When Angelina was the Sister who taught you Moral Sciences, and far removed from the pouty person of today's fantasies. Kindle used to be something you did with a fire or a love interest. Social Networking was what was done at the adda outside college.u00a0 A firewall was just that ufffd a wall of fire ufffd not that you were ever used to seeing a wall of fire.u00a0 And if a guy ever "tweeted" well, he was just strange. I think I feel a mid-life crisis coming on. Nobody warns you that you're suddenly going to go from cool to "oh-so-last-season." Where do the years rapidly fly by when you move from swotting for your board exams to fighting to stay awake at your school reunions? When crawling back at three a.m. slowly melts into crawling into bed at 10 pm ufffd after your warm glass of milk! Call me uncle, you little college chits at the lift! But remember before you know it, even your pimples will drop off. And you'll be looking in alarm at your first grey hair.

You know you're definitely middle aged and over the hill when those peppyily cute college girls look at you and without batting a false eye-lid say "Uncle! Please hold the lift!"

Where did my teens go?

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Where did my teens go?

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