Senior citizens are no one’s babies

As lifestyles and values change, the elderly are left to fend for themselves

Amrita Nandy-Joshi Delhi

He did not want his name or details to be revealed for fear of more harassment at home. Nor did he want to meet me in his house, so we met in a park. In his polo shirt and expensive trainers, this 72-year-old owner of an 850 square, plush house in South Delhi said, “My children do not want me. They just want my house. They wish I die soon. I wish this too.” As if hoping to shift the blame from his children, he quickly added, “It is all because of the soaring property prices these days.” He and his rich septuagenarian friends meet at the park everyday. They walk and share stories of neglect by their children. Emotional support is often absent. Loneliness is a constant companion.

This gentleman is an exception among the 80 million elderly people in India today. The majority have meagre or no finances, with far more cruel and horrifying experiences. Better technology and healthcare — for those who have access to it — has increased life span. Yet, the challenges around elderly care have increased and will continue to be so. By 2026, the population of the aged in India is expected to touch 130 million. Our country is greying fast, but the key institution for elderly care — the family — is impaired and unprepared. The State, with a substantial role to play, has so far delivered tokenisms, or at best, inadequate services. The market, not surprisingly, is licking its lips at this section of 'consumers'. The elderly clearly are no one's babies.

The world around today's urban senior citizens has changed a lot. Decades ago, family trees resembled pyramids — more children per couple. With fewer children, the family tree looks like a beanpole. Today's families have more than a new look. They have new attitude. Cohabitation, deferred marriages and childbirth-norms are questioned and new perspectives adopted. The breadwinner/ home maker model of the family has been challenged, both in theory and practice. The sentimentalised nature of care — invested heavily in the mother and other female members — sits uneasy in double-income families, an economic powerhouse.

The focus today is entirely on individual financial success. Families are caught in the consumerist whirlpool created by market forces. In this scheme of things, only the productive individual matters; the rest make for dead investment and are consigned to the margins. Hectic lifestyles — full-time jobs with child care — have changed roles. The story-telling grannies from yesteryears have become full-time nannies. Instead of having care-givers for themselves, elders have become care-givers to grandchildren. Moral ties that once bound a family or community together have generally weakened.

Says a 73-year-old academician: “Ever since my son got married and started living separately, he turned his back on us — me and my 69-year-old wife. There is no financial or emotional support (occasional visits/phone calls) from him. My wife's cataract operation is being delayed. Even our intense desire to see our two grandchildren is snubbed. As time passes by, my own capacities — physical and mental — to run a household are on the decline. I wonder if parental care as a value can be further devalued than this.”

In rural India, millions of young leave their villages every year to join the workforce in cities. In reverse migration, many elderly leave the cities to retire in villages. In both cases, the senior citizens have to fend for themselves. Poverty and lack of medical aid makes things worse for village elders. The neglect and loneliness are common for the rural and urban elderly, but the similarity ends there.