Every once in a while, I get persuaded to step out of my comfort zone and accept an invite to a social engagement. In other words, I agree to attend a dinner party.
There are several reasons why these occasions are few and far between these days but, suffice to say, the disadvantages far outweigh the meagre advantages of such an exercise.
Conversely, here’s the thing … ironically, the more one becomes reluctant to meet other people, the more they want to meet you – it is almost as if there is some valuable sacred magic trick one is hiding that should be unearthed and shared with everyone.
But to really explain the inexplicable peacefulness of enjoying one’s own solitude is no easy task, so eventually I give up.
However, the dinner parties I get invited to nowadays are not what they used to be because, as the ages of the people I socialize with increased, so did the tone and tenor of the entertainment. Once we had lively discussions on the politics of upcoming elections, merits of sending children to reputed educational institutions, arguments about the different pay parity between genders, suggestions on reading interesting books, watching new movies or trying out recently opened restaurants, pubs, cafes and so on. But now, all we do is talk about ageing!
Not simply the passage-of-time ageing, but comprehensive investigative ageing, which is explored in great detail, with all its various age-related health ailments and the entire gamut of sicknesses it brings.
Also, we discuss death. Though this is done rather tentatively, as in, ‘did you know so-and-so passed away?’ Curiously, the immediate query afterwards is not what the cause of the person’s death was, but ‘what was their age?’ And the age of the dead person is important to know because the offering of sympathy subsequently is directly proportionate to how close the dying person’s age is to one’s own.
Therefore, if they were reasonably elder – for instance, at least 15 to 20 years older – gentle condolences are passed to the bereaved family. But if the departed soul’s age is the same as ours, or younger, the scale of sympathy increases tenfold because the deceased somehow appears extremely valued, simply by being closer to us in age.
In ancient times, there were rituals that were followed with collective understanding and death was a supported and shared experience. Everyone had an interest in helping people to have ‘a good death’ because they hoped, when their time comes, they would be helped also, since even the most invincible of us will die one day.
Right! So, at a recent dinner party, within seconds, the discussion shifted from the unseasonable downpour in the city, to which high blood pressure tablet was considered the most effective one. Various generic and non generic medicine names were bandied about but, suddenly, a doctor was summoned to the premises. Without batting an eyelid, the guests began to roll up their shirt sleeves to get their BP measured.
“Your turn, go for it”, the gracious hostess smiled at me.
“I am fine, thanks”, I declined the invitation.
“High BP causes heart attacks, you know?” she warned.
“Mine is on the lower side”, I confided.
“Our neighbour died last week, he had low BP that suddenly shot up”, she stated.
“How old was he?” I asked.
“Maybe 59 or 60, not sure”, she said.
I stood up immediately and started rolling my shirt sleeve.
By Nickunj Malik
|| features@portugalresident.com
Nickunj Malik’s journalistic career began when she walked into the office of Khaleej Times newspaper in Dubai thirty-one years ago and got the job. Since then, her articles have appeared in various newspapers all over the world. She now resides in Portugal and is married to a banker who loves numbers more than words.
