I could be 81

 

I am quite used to being addressed as “uncle” by a wide variety of people.  The abundance of grey hairs on my head has entitled me to that avuncular status.  But never did I imagine that somebody would think me 81 years old.

Recently when I was holidaying in Kerala my teeth sprang a problem.  Every holiday in Kerala gifts me a dental problem.  The reason, as my dentist in Kerala once told me, is the non-vegetarian diet.  In God’s own country, no lunch or dinner is complete without at least one non-veg dish. 

The receptionist of the dentist asked me such details as my name, surname and age.  I couldn’t see what she was writing.  As I reclined in the dentist’s chair a little later with my mouth wide open, the doc said, “This is not a serious problem at your age.  It’s just the normal wear and tear that comes with age.”  He went on to repair “the slight abrasion” as I sat wondering whether my age of 51 was the threshold of senility.

Later on, as I sat in a bus to my village, I took out the registration card given by the receptionist just to have a look at it because I had nothing else to do.  Then I understood why the doctor had referred to my age.  My age in the card was 81!

At home, when I told my wife about the age given me by the young girl at the reception, she said with a hearty laugh, “I’ll file for divorce.  I didn’t know I had married such an old man.”

Two days later, when I met the same receptionist at the dentist’s I asked her with a sweet smile, “Do I look 81 years old?”

“Why? Well…”  She fumbled, but without losing her nerve a bit.

“That’s the age you gave me,” I pointed at what she had written.  “I’m 51.”

She smiled much more sweetly than I had.  “Sorry, it’s a mistake.”

We had spoken all through in Malayalam.  In Malayalam the words for 51 and 81 differ only by a single vowel sound.  Her mistake was understandable.

Couldn’t the doc guess the age of a person better?  I wondered.  But dentists are a busy lot in Kerala.

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