Just like a lot of people believe in human rights, I believe in age rights. I believe that people shouldn’t be restricted from doing anything because of their age.
So, I told myself that I won’t refrain from anything I want to do just because I am well into my thirties. But this assertion soon runs into problems when I realize that actually, I shouldn’t join those little people who are having a good time on bouncy castles.
My conviction suffered another blow when I was prevented from riding a donkey at the seaside. I had never been on horseback and always wondered what it would be like but was too scared to try it. So, the donkey looked like a good compromise. But to my disappointment, the donkey owner said ‘Only under 12 allowed.’ Well, even though I am small enough to pass for a 16-year-old, 12 was a bit of a stretch. Besides, I couldn’t do it to this cute harmless animal, forcing it to carry more weight than it could handle.
So, I revised my promise to ‘I won’t be prevented from doing things I enjoy because of my age so long as it doesn’t harm or scare anyone.’
With that off I went, to a cinema to watch Big Hero 6. Apart from my adopted dad and brother whom I had roped into taking me there, the only other adults were the parents of the children. Joining in with the round of giggles, I felt satisfied that I wasn’t tied into my age range.
However, the real blow comes whenever I see a group of young people noisily chatting away on buses, excited to be with each other.
In my youth, despite my parents’ constant watch and control of who I hung out with, I had managed to build up a group of friends that they trusted and liked.
At the age of 22, I was happily walking around downtown Yangon holding hands with my girl-friend. It is a common practice in Myanmar for close girl-friends to walk around hand in hand. We had just been using Gtalk at an internet center. She was talking to a guy in Thailand and I was typing as her since she didn’t know what to say to him. After that, I logged into my gmail and we both read my emails.
We enjoyed similar closeness with our male friends. We would be sauntering around in groups through the park, around pagodas barefoot, holding our shoes and chatting away about various subjects. We would sit around in roadside teashops and talk for hours sipping tea and sharing snacks. We would swap sunglasses and take photos. When I was railroaded by one of my girl-friends into trying out eyeshadows, one guy in the group asked me with a grin, ‘Did somebody hit you in the eyes?’ I gave him a punch in the gut which made him double up and groan. I never tried the eyeshadows again.
Slowly, our group of friends dispersed, going to different countries, some to Singapore, some to the US, others to Japan and me to the UK. Eventually, we lost touch. The girl I used to walk around with hand in hand got married. I wonder if she now has children. Our lives no longer have anything in common. With that, our closeness, the feeling of camaraderie, excitement and uplifting spirit in each other’s company were gone, never to come again.
The friendships I am now able to build are different. As older more mature people, it seems the camaraderie-like connection I once took for granted is no longer possible. My new set of friends consist mostly of middle aged and older women. The talk with them centres around children, husbands, pets, work, health and of course the weather. We never share our emails. We never share our sunglasses and take silly photos. The friendships are great, mellow and often very supportive. The conversations are deep and meaningful.
But a part of me still asks ‘Where is the friend who will undiplomatically tell me to my face that I look terrible with eyeshadow on?’ ‘Where is the friend who sat side by side with me and read my emails?’ But I had left those well behind along with my 20s. Some things are indeed age restricted after all.
Still I wouldn’t go back in time, even if Doctor Who offered me a lift.