ONE of the unhealthy things people do is the way they speak of themselves. They speak poorly, especially about their physical health. They express a low opinion of their prospects. How they have “aged,” when they are still in their 40s or 50s. This view emerges from their false perception of how people at this age should be. Having thus acquired a low standard for themselves, they proceed to view life with a sense of doom. Their unhealthy language also extends to overblown compliments aimed at fit 50-year-olds.
In the past few weeks, a fascinating cricket tournament was underway—not the Champions Trophy, which was alright, but one that featured former cricket players from all over the world, some of them legends, like Sachin Tendulkar and Brian Lara. It was disorienting to watch Tendulkar. Not because there was anything wrong with him. He was exquisite, as always. And he ran between the wickets with the same swiftness as before. It was disorienting because of the reaction of audiences and commentators. They behaved as if they were marvelling at a disabled kid who was not expected to do anything.
I think I may have watched every one-dayer of Tendulkar before he retired. Inescapably, watching him was also about how spectators responded. Often, they were in awe. But now, as Tendulkar drove the ball to the boundary and hooked it for sixes and sprinted between the wickets, the crowd had some sort of obtuse glee laced with condescension for a 50-year-old. I had once attended a fashion show performed by children with cerebral palsy, whose every stride was applauded by the audience as encouragement and not tribute. I saw the same attitude here. The commentators were worse. They were treating Tendulkar as though he was an infant who had just walked.
The fact is they were watching a 51-year-old man in unremarkable health, as any 51-year-old can be. His talent would be unattainable but his fitness is for any average person. But people in general are so unfit and have such a low opinion of themselves, that they see their own mediocrity in everyone. This attitude not only dooms them, but also informs their children that it is alright to have poor fitness in their 40s and 50s. By the 60s, they expect themselves to be on severe medication.
You may have noticed that I am not using the very economical term ‘middle-aged.’ It is among the dumbest expressions in English. You don’t know when I am going to die, so how do you know if I am ‘middle-age’? Of course, you would argue that one should take the ‘average lifespan’ of humans and find its middle, and arrive at the “middle age”. This is another way in which language propagates poor health. The ‘average’ should never be the standard. Also, we must never describe ourselves as being in the middle of death. This easy embrace of mediocrity reminds me of one of the most foolish ways of finding one’s ‘maximum heart rate,’ which is one of the markers of health. The ‘formula’ is to subtract your age from 220. But then why exercise or do anything at all if everyone is going to have the same ‘maximum heart rate’? What’s silly is not that this formula is popular, but that the world tries to drag you into its mediocre health marker, its ordinariness. Also, I object to a world that says that at the age of 220, which is not improbable, my maximum heart rate would be zero.
An odd thing about people is that they desperately want to look young, and the only thing most of them do to achieve that is dye their hair black. I would have appreciated it, really, if it worked. But when I look around, I see people with thin limbs and pot-bellies hobbling through life with a puffed face, but their hair is jet black. Today, when I see jet-black hair, I am reminded of old age.
People do try to use language ‘positively.’ I’ve heard them say “age is only a number.” I have heard only old people say that, though, and like their black hair, it has come to mean the exact opposite of what it aims to convey.
What was remarkable about Tendulkar playing the masters tournament was that he was among the very few Indians who were fit, from what I could see. Several former cricket stars, just in their 40s, were out of shape. It was as though, without the professional requirement of playing a sport, they didn’t have to take care of themselves.
Poor health is so very unnecessary. That is the exact word. People badly wish to live healthy and well, and it is the easiest wish to fulfil. Compared to, say, making money or finding love, being physically healthy is very easy today, chiefly because we do not have to depend on anyone else for that. Science might be a colossal failure in many aspects of human life, and what its medicines chiefly do is prolong death, not life. Even so, what it has certainly given us is a broad guide to living a healthy life. For instance, irrespective of your age, just avoid anything that would spike your blood sugar very fast, eat widely and exercise everyday. That is all. It may not result in a beautiful body, but you will immediately be among the healthiest Indians.
Sometimes, I do think the paranormal exists, and that there is evil, and that it is sugar. It is everywhere, masquerading as a force of good — it is tradition, happiness and mother’s love. (A mamma without sugar usually has nothing going for her.) Every time sugar comes under threat, it invokes our collective human culture to fight off the attack—through language. You say anything about a person’s fitness these days, you will be accused of ‘body shaming.’ It is astonishing that as animals our superpower is supposed to be speech, but modernity is about things you cannot say anymore. I can see the diabolical smile of sugar.
(Stay and read more.)