My first close encounter with a large collection of the elderly was in 1962 when I was in Lower Six and a member of the Social Action Group.

The place was the Little Sisters of Poor Home for the Aged in Batu Lancang Road in Penang where we clipped finger nails and listened to the sad stories of the residents; mostly of how their children abandoned them. Very depressing.

At that time, it seemed as though our turn at reaching that state of walking stick frailty was well below the distant horizon of our young lives.

Now I'm convinced my arrival at the threshold of dotage was at warp speed.

Okay, all right. I know that the words written or spoken on the topic can build mountain but I do crave your indulgence in adding to a pebble or two of my own to them.

But then ageing is such a personal thing that no one individual experience can duplicate another's; their ways of coping with the various changes that the body and mind undergo would be unique as their life story.

Anyway that's my excuse or reason, if you like, for this piece.

Constant struggle

Aside from the aches and pains what's worse is the flood of past memories that continually threaten to overwhelm one, succeeding more often than not. Stemming that is an arduous task as one can well imagine.

However, I'm eat up with pride to say that to a large degree I've triumphed over the other awful proclivity of the mind - 'the if only I had done this or that' syndrome that runs in a constant in a loop.

We load up on this debilitating bag of regrets along life's path brought on by making decisions in the heat of the moment.

It took me years of constant struggle and vigilance to bring this particular piece of human misery a manageable level.

Of course, it does come a'visiting off and on but I laugh at its attempts to retake lost ground.

The early part of retirement can be a testing period; the daily routine gone, reduced to the rather frustrating role of a passive observer of life passing by.

I mean, however enjoyable, there are only that many hours in a day you can devote to reading, losing yourself in other people's flights of imagination or taking long solitary walks.

The trick to blunting this period of boredom is acquiring a sense of resignation and striving to develop a greater awareness of one's surroundings.

You'd be amazed at how time can take wing when engaged in such activities like listening carefully to the birds when you wake up.

Take for instance, the robin magpie. For long I thought it was just such a chatterbox. No longer. This black and white beauty can display an amazing range of tones; from questioning to nagging or just plain chit chatting.

Vanishing landmarks

That not withstanding that one major gnawing anxiety is that the mental geography of familiar places constantly visited over the years no longer reflects the reality on the ground. Let me put it another way, it becomes downright scary when solid landmarks vanish with voodoo like magic.

The mind refused to absorb the notion that the Bukit Bintang area in Kuala Lumpur, where I could've walked around blind-folded in the old days, could have changed so much. A sudden sense of loss and disorientation struck me hard when I went there last year after an absence of several years.

The effect was made worse as my visit came on a Saturday night choked with traffic and the sidewalks filled with such surrealistic sights as white foreigners having their feet massaged while people watching.

To compound the feeling of loss at the passing away of familiar haunts, two gaping places have taken the space where once the Pavilion and Cathay cinemas stood. They are now parking lots, a sorrier sight you can never see.

But all that has been balanced by a weird transformation that has sort of sneaked up upon me.

A wicked sense of mischief has surfaced for which I might be justly rewarded with black eyes or broken nose or teeth one of these days.

It expressed itself first when we were staying in Taman Mayang, Petaling Jaya in that house that ejected us.

Oh, I was so brave

I was sitting in my children's school canteen at the end of the term when my attention was drawn to two boys trading heated words as each tried to justify his version of some event or other.

Then matters turned ugly, the rotund boy gave the opposing debater a mighty shove. He went flying.

Undaunted he returned. I saw the bigger boy's legs drawing back in threatening fashion; the look on his face exposed his intention to plant both feet on his friend's.

At that point I intervened. "Enough, enough, stop it you two," I shouted in my best barrack room voice.

My son hid his face behind his bag. My daughter had the detached observer's look on her; all cold and inscrutable.

The two main actors were shocked into silence and took quick looks at me. I glared at the big boy as his eyes shifted back and forth.

What triggered my outburst was the fear that the smaller boy was liable to get hurt badly and, he also won my secret admiration for the way he gave no ground. I was totally oblivious to the possibility that he father might have been around.

The other incident took place when I decided to get myself a touch 'n go card. I choose to be at Kelana Jaya LRT station during the off peak period.

There was only one woman at the counter, her colleague, I presumed, must taken his or her tea break.

My turn came and behind me was a girl in a chequered shirt, blue jeans and tudong plus a serene smile.

As I moved in tandem with Putra official to pay for the card, I noticed from the corner of my eye a brute of a bugger moving into my vacated space.

Card in hand, I tapped him on the shoulder which felt solid, looked him coldly in the eye and said: "Dia dulu," motioning to the girl behind him.

With a sheepish grin, he stepped back. I strode off without a backward glance.

When nearing home the sudden realization why I was so brave hit me.

I had taken advantage of my age. I'm certain of course that sooner or later, I'm going to pick on the wrong person. No wreaths please.