LATELY, I have felt myself ageing fast.

For many years now, I have been made to feel aged. I have been called "Uncle" in various languages by all manners of Malaysians wherever I went. Malaysians would know that "Uncle" is a generic name given to an older male person, and needs not indicate any blood tie. It is to the credit of Malaysians that the address of "Uncle" is usually accompanied by a certain amount of respect and deference. The Chinese term "Ah Pek" would tend to sound slightly condescending.

Then one day last month, I was walking down the road in my neighbourhood when some very young children hailed me as "Ah Gong", which in Chinese dialects means "Grandpa". My suspicion of my ancientness was thus confirmed forever.

My old age needs convincing to me because, in the privacy of my skull, I feel as if it was only yesterday when I was 30 years old. Where have all those years gone?

When I was 30, I was foolish enough to believe that I was indestructible and immortal, like many of you young readers out there now. This shows that the wisdom of old age is useless, because by the time you learn from your mistake, the lesson is no longer applicable to your present predicament.

The degradation of your body is the first indication of ageing of course. I am not talking about my iron grey hair which is more salt than pepper. I have been greying since my teenage years. But my set of good teeth has been dropping off like flies in the last five years. Right now, you can say that I am between teeth.

That is how I discovered that being a member of the minority tribe of senior citizens can be such a bore in Malaysia. The people who run this country of mostly young people have forgotten about people with very scanty grey hair.

Malaysian Old People's Party (MOPP)

The other day, I tried to go to Bukit Bintang from my Cheras abode by means of public transport. The distance of eight miles took four changes of buses and trains, and involved climbing up and down endless staircases that ran for miles. By the time I reached my destination, I was exhausted and too tired to go about my business. Of course, there was no special fare for senior citizens.

I am too cynical about human beings to do any active politics now, or else I would form a new political party called Malaysian Old People's Party, or MOPP for short, designed to fight for the rights of senior citizens who have contributed much to the welfare and growth of the country.

The former PM is probably the most suitable person to lead the MOPP, but he will probably end up as a dictator, and spoiling our political struggle by his big mouth. So we better leave him out. He is what you call not being able to age and retire gracefully. Old people must cease to behave like young "samsengs"

Without him, the old people's party may take two or three seats. If the DAP, PAS and Keadilan get crushed again, the MOPP will become the largest opposition party in Parliament. Perhaps then, it can apply to join the BN. And perhaps not.

Nothing can be further from my mind than active politics these days. I am especially careful about food and eating to suit my aged status. After all, they say you are what you eat; it is the sort of advice gladly accepted only when it is too late.

So I was standing in front of the road-side stall near Bukit Bintang waiting to be served my order of a childhood delicacy called you-cha-kueh .

Suddenly, a rather large woman of indeterminate age cut the queue in front of me, in the rude fashion that only KL people are capable of. In her haste to squeeze me out of existence, her bulging behinds rubbed against my hands. I stepped back and looked innocently at the ground in front of me. She glared at me for about five seconds, probably suspecting that I was trying to pinch her bulky posterior. Then she decided that I did not look like a dirty old man after all, and went about her bossy impudent business of cutting queue.

Some smart ass once remarked to me that you know you are old when you find your friend's daughter attractive. What nonsense! When the appropriate organ ceases to produce the male hormones, you find no woman sexually attractive. The so-called sexy foxy ladies parading down Star-Walk like peacocks are just very healthy specimens of the female gender to me.

Again, not all old men can age gracefully. I was in a nightclub in Hatyai in southern Thailand once, decades ago. The dance floor was packed with Chinese senior citizens from Kedah and Penang. All I could see in the dim and flashing lights was a sea of grey heads bobbing up and down to the disco beat, as these ancient creatures tried to dance with their nubile and scantily clothed partners young enough to be their granddaughters. It was a hilarious sight.

I know there are wonder drugs that can restore virility temporarily to any octogenarian. I also know some ladies prefer much older men, though not always octogenarians. But I do insist the merit of horizontal jogging has been over-rated universally. Its adverse consequences have never been properly understood.

Spiritual journey

When asked about his service of Aphrodite, The Greek Goddess of Love, Sophocles, who was quite advanced in age, was quoted in Plato's Republic to have replied, "Hush man, most gladly have I escaped this thing you talk of, as if I had run away from a raging and savage beast of a master." Old age will set you free - from this "raging and savage beast" of carnal impulses.

So you see, ageing is not merely a physical process; it is also a spiritual journey.

Young people will not think of their dying. They are too busy pursuing the goals they have set for themselves, and like moths to the flame, they think of nothing else except the great dreams of personal happiness. Death and dying are an abstract concept to them, like justice and 1+1 equals 2. The death of a parent or a grandparent may cause them to mourn for a while, and then, like all forgetful creatures, they go back to their mundane existence, as if to-morrow will never come.

But ageing people are dying everyday, though not all old people would like to think and talk about it. Unfortunately, denial is useless. Everyday, aching joints and muscles and various impediments to an active life are constant reminders of your mortality.

Many decades ago, I used to put myself through college by working as a nursing orderly in Canada, Quite a number of patients died on my watch from various causes. Then in the course of my work as a politician, I had the odious tasks of visiting a great number of hospital patients on their death-bed.

My limited experience in this death business has told me one thing: generally speaking, people are terrified of dying their death. Their terror is inconsolable, and more than a few actually sobbed miserably. Those with deep religious belief seem to do better.

But watching other people die is far different from facing your own death. In this world, everything you do can be substituted by another person. But nobody else can do your dying for you. You have to do it alone, because no one with experience can come back from the other side of the Great Divide to teach you to die properly.

Not 'if' but 'when'

But at the same time, death is the most certain of certainties in life. The only way out of this life is death. It is not a question of "if", but one of "when".

It is generally a depressing thought because this precious "I" that we regard as the centre of the entire universe will be cast mercilessly into the Great Void and extinguished into nothingness. This body that has given you so much pleasure, and that has been groomed, cleaned, fed daily for decades will inescapably be fed to the worms.

That is why the promise of afterlife, salvation and eternity from those great religions has attracted so many faithful followers. If human beings do not die, there would be no gods and no religion.

On the other hand, if human beings do not die, life would be very boring, insufferable in fact.

At least I can congratulate myself from not having been struck with one of those deadly afflictions that demand a slow or painful death, though I touch wood at the same time that I would not speak too soon. Frankly, I would not know how to deal with that sort of a prospect come true.

But then, as I write this, I feel hungry. So I must now end here, and go out to look for some delicious Hailam chicken rice.