The boobs, the belly, the butt start to sag
The stamina and libido start to flag

Added girth, more diet control
Hey, let’s just face it, we’re growing old

Bulge replacing muscle, a bit more flab
A touch more foundation, another dab

Creams and lotions, pills and potions
No going back, age has been set in motion

What??? Not yet forty? Are you serious, bugger?
Cut the BS, pal, we were born the same year!

Silver strands, bald spots, hair thinning
It’s menopause time, age kicking in

Crow’s feet, wrinkles, worry lines
Forgetfulness, losing our minds

Creaky knees, niggles and aches
Can’t handle late nights, give me a break!

*Bhaiya’s become uncle, *didi’s now aunt
Don’t even try to read without glasses, you know we can’t

^Old Monk & Thums Up – just a pleasant memory
Of drunken nights with buddies at IIT**

Now it’s single malt and stress tests in equal measure
Aging parents adding to the pressure

Midlife crises, doling out sage advice
Sure, we’re smarter and more worldly wise

But things have changed, those were the days
All these new-tech gizmos leave us quite, quite dazed

“Dude”, “bro”… it’s a different “frickin’” slang
We don’t get it, but do we really give a hang?

Our dads weren’t wrong, these are different times
We’re worried, aren’t we, of being left behind

Kids? Oh my God, how they’ve grown
It’s empty nest time, they’re gonna have flown

These daughters of ours and their short, short pants
Today’s crappy music and oh, man, today’s bands!

Gen Y boys no better, their low-waisters showing half their ass,
Frankly, it just displays a lack of class

And their obsession with piercings and tattoos,
Forget it, boss, ain’t nothing we can do

So, just take it easy, better take care
The big five-oh is up close, I fear

For the non- Indians in here, a small explanation –
* bhaiya & didi is what youngsters would call an older acquaintance in Hindi
^ Old Monk is a cult rum brand, popular among those who grew up in the 80s and Thums Up is the local cola back from the days when Coke was banned from the country
** IIT is the Indian Institute of Technology, a world renowned Engineering College, which also hosts a rocking inter collegiate fest every January



    1. Hi again – the following is my personal take on my first 50, not posted on this site. Sorry. it’s in “Hinglish”, meant primarily for friends & family here in India, but you’ll get the gist!

      50 in 50
      Nothingness to nursery, peeing in pants to Parsi primary school. Tears and tantrums. Sports and scout camps; DEAS, dramatics and detention. Ethics, Civics, Physics making you sick. Topping and then tumbling. Report cards and redlines, merits and monitors; homework and House Captains. Teachers who taught and teachers who taunted. Admission into college (and an admission to yourself that you could have done better).
      Paradise and PDP. Dabba I-spy, tanki catching cook, cycle chor police, lagori. ABBA, terrace parties, Top of the Pops and marshmallows on the rocks. “Sania”, “Bauxite” and “Devikakka”. Scandal Point and Chandralok. Dearly-loved dogs, all three of them.
      Wonderworld and the wonder years on the KC steps. Pacman and Practs. Crushes and car crashes. Bunking, bingeing, leading lukkha lives. Mugging and making up about making out. Backbenchers appearing for the Boards. 2 magical years of mischief, madness and much more.
      Engineering in a physically non-existent institute. Solitary professor, solitary girl in class! Jerks and geniuses; cats, mugpots and other assorted characters. Plant visits and workshops. Sea Face, sandwiches and Subroto’s dabba. Socials and Sophia chicks. All-night Mood I, alarming ATKT. Friendships and failures. More memorable madness.
      Graduation surprises. Apprenticeship and stipend; 6.20 fast to the factory, Borivli and boredom. Then bye mom, bye dad, bye to the behenas. Off to the utterly unforgettable USofA. Blondes, blacks and Business Management. Groceries and laundry on limited greenbacks. Roomies, relationships and then the return.
      Print media and PG; the Old Lady and a young office. MIS, marketing and moving on. Ibteda to entrepreneurial independence. ‘Baba’ to businessman. Courage, conviction, chin up, chutiagiri in various parts. Corporatisation and new clients. Boom to belly-up and beginning again; paisa, pitfalls and professional life. Maturity and migraines. Hire, fire, tire, and inshallah, retire.
      A meeting of minds. Followed by the chase, ceremony, congratulations and celebrations. Maverick to matrimony. Fatherhood. Biwi, baccha, ‘bai’ time. From “dad” to “dude”, “papa” to “pop”, tot to ten to the teens in no time. House, holidays, happiness; differences, distance and depression. Dealing with death. Hair to where? 28” to 34”, vain to wane. Andropausal aches and nightly niggles. Fine wine and high spirits hand in hand with a sobered-down spirituality.
      50 years of life in a few paras. Fast forward to the next few.



    1. You’re right;inspite of all the advances of medicine, lifestyle diseases have meant many of middle aged don’t even reach the big five oh. I’ve lost a couple of my friends, sadly… Anyway, that was a Sunday smile, written in a lighter vein! 🙂 Thanks for reading!

      Liked by 1 person


  1. Great post! Great insight into today’s kids. I look at them sometime and think, “You have no idea the life you are wasting.” then I remember myself at that age and I wasn’t much different. 🙂 I really have adapted the attitude that I am not another year older, I am another year better. Hopefully wiser, smarter, understand life a bit better, knowing that tomorrow I could learn something that proves all of my thoughts irrelevant. but that is life. 🙂 Very enjoyable and thought provoking post.

    Liked by 1 person


      1. I have been fortunate, I understand the style, it is what they do, expressing themselves how society tells them. I can only sigh and wish them good fortune on their journey. I could tell them to pull up their pants but am certain they wouldn’t listen. 🙂 As for music, that is a lost battle as well, kids like crazy stuff, but my parents generation thought the same about the music that I loved.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Kunal, you are truly the only poet I know in real life who can add so much humour to a sad truth of life , without losing the essence of the sadness and without sounding crass with your humour. Here, you address what we all go through with so much wit that you almost make us look forward to growing old. And yet, while i smile readjng your lines, i cannot help sigh at my own impending fifth decade. To cut a long story short, only you know how yo maintain this equilibrium between dark and light. There is a reason I call you my witty poet. Love it, my witty witty poet.

    Liked by 1 person


  3. I noticed I haven’t been here before. Nice synopsis of life. Sounds like you were a naughty bugger at times. Now I know a lot more about you:-) Very good summary in a few “paras” as you say

    A Great humorous read!

    Liked by 1 person


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