No more reunions for pensioners

AFTER retiring from a university several years ago, I have been living in a housing society near the campus. Most of the residents are my former colleagues.

My next-door neighbour retired long before me. An elderly widower, he lives with his son, daughter-in-law and grandchildren. Everyone in the locality knows a lot about him, as he likes to share his thoughts with every person he meets. Since he tends to repeat his stories, many try to slip past him by citing imaginary urgencies, but not everyone is lucky enough to avoid him.

His favourite topic is the life of pensioners in the past. There was a time when they eagerly anticipated the first day of every month — provided it wasn’t a holiday — so that they could go to the bank and withdraw their pension. For many, the purpose was not just to get the money, but to meet ex-colleagues, reminisce about the university days and exchange personal news. They would chat for hours, sharing detailed accounts of their lives over the past month, including family matters. Some even brought their wives, at the insistence of family members concerned about their health and failing senses. The women would gossip until their husbands told them that it was time to leave, urging them to save some stories for the next meeting.

At that time, the elderly hadn’t yet been dubbed ‘senior citizens’ deserving special consideration, so there were no separate queues for them at the bank. But they didn’t mind; they weren’t in a hurry. While standing in the queue, holding their passbooks and withdrawal forms, they would search the crowd for familiar faces, both inside and outside the bank. They would smile when they spotted some of them.

Once they received their money and updated passbooks, they would carefully check both to ensure that everything was in order. After finishing their business in the bank, they would gather outside under a sprawling tree, chatting about everything, including their university days, often laughing as they reminisced.

They would often compare their pensions to the pay scales when they were appointed, speculating about the potential hike that would come with the implementation of the next Pay Commission’s recommendations.

Practical as they were, they knew that these meetings could be their last, as illness or death could strike at any time. It was always a sombre moment when they bid each other farewell, with the promise of meeting again on the next pension day.

My neighbour curses modern technology that has made such visits to the bank unnecessary. Digital payments are now the norm, rendering cash and checks virtually outdated. If required, the bank representative visits the houses of elderly account holders to complete the formalities.

The person most affected by these changes is perhaps the pickpocket, who is disappointed to find few currency notes or none in the wallet he has stolen.

Musings