The R Files

8216;8216;I love the surroundings here, hills and green lawns,8217;8217; smiles Katy Kapadia, a 74-year-old former employee of Reserve Bank of India. She is checking out the facilities8212;the doctor-on-call, cafeteria, ambulance, clubhouse, security, shuttle bus, guest rooms, housekeeping and the panic button in each room. There8217;s also an amphitheatre and a 24-hour dispensary.

Though all apartments have a kitchenette, most residents prefer to eat at the cafeteria. 8216;8216;Many people come here just to converse,8217;8217; says Megha Palkar, who runs the tuck shop. 8216;8216;They8217;re choosy about the food, demanding non-spicy, balanced meals. But more than anything else, they want to be talked to, pampered and served with love.8217;8217;

Afternoons are for post-lunch siestas, favourite television serials and a little reading. Mornings and evenings are for the community. There8217;s a gym and any number of clubs, from music to the Upanishads.

But group activities are not always everyone8217;s cup of tea. Take Prabhakar Phadke, a trained lawyer who lived for more than 30 years in Uganda8212;some of which were spent as legal adviser to notorious dictator Idi Amin. Phadke, whose wife and children live abroad, says he prefers to just relax. 8216;8216;I spend my time with friends, or reading and going for long walks.8217;8217; But for the more playful, there are plenty of bridge and rummy partnerships. Forming foursomes is never an issue.

The 150 apartments at Athashri cost between Rs 6 lakh and Rs 8 lakh, but all add-on services8212;including medical and electricity8212;are extra.

Contact Sandeep Pethe at 020-25862322

Sunanda Mehta

MUMBAY
Harmony Interactive Centre

Until six months ago, Pascal Carvalho, 75, a retired engineering firm employee, spent most of his evenings in the gardens around the faded business district of Girgaum.

But today, thanks to a remarkable concept at work on three floors of a neighbourhood building leased from the municipal corporation, the reticent Carvalho has company.

When the Harmony Interactive Centre was conceptualised over a year ago by Tina Ambani, its aim was to provide a space for seniors without segregating them from their families.

Now put that cynicism on hold, just as we did. Because four months after its launch, everything at this functional centre seems to be going according to plan. Unless you ask Carvalho, who still hasn8217;t got the ping-pong table he8217;s been promised.

Harmony8217;s USP lies in the simple fact that none of its 260-odd members8212;who pay Rs 25 a month and are mostly from lower middle and middle class backgrounds8212;stays on the premises. The day begins at a leisurely 10.30 am, with the men8217;s yoga session.

Former engineer BA Naik, 73, is playing carrom with friend Dr NK Choudhari. Every day, mostly in the evenings, Naik and wife Kanakalata, make the half-hour commute from their Worli residence to the centre. Kanakalata is busy attending a lecture on low-sugar recipes which, Naik hopes, she8217;ll prepare at home soon. 8216;8216;We could have stayed at our children8217;s place, but then you know how it is,8217;8217; he says.

8216;8216;Nearly all our members have families to go back to. But where we feel we are successful is that many of them look forward to the daily visit,8217;8217; says coordinator Hiren Mehta.

The special talk on low-sugar diets is just one of the weekly sessions where experts discuss health, taxation, health, investment and self-defence.

Retired Mumbai Police employee PL Upasani likes the talks the most. 8216;8216;It8217;s an interesting diversion after all the TV watching,8217;8217; says the 75-year-old bachelor, who often lunches at the subsidised canteen. 8216;8216;Cooking when you live alone is a chore. You8217;re taking my picture? Go ahead,8217;8217; says Upasani, adjusting his collar and sitting ramrod straight.

8216;8216;Doctors around the area have started recommending the centre to their elderly patients,8217;8217; says Mehta, adding group therapy by psychoanalysts is also an important part of their work. 8220;That8217;s when everyone opens up.8221;

On the cards, says Ambani, is computer education, hobby classes and employment generation measures. Some day, she says, she sees the members running the centre.

But what8217;s causing more excitement at the moment is a Harmony entry for the upcoming Mumbai Marathon. 8216;8216;How many of you are ready for it?8221; asks a staffer. 8220;We get to do a 4 km walkathon.8217;8217;

At least 60 eager hands shoot up.
8216;8216;We want good T-shirts and caps.8217;8217;
8216;8216;Walking is fine, I do it daily.8217;8217;
8216;8216;Will we be going as a team?8217;8217;
The common ground is established.

Contact Hiren Mehta at 022 30976440 or 41

Murali K Menon

DELHI
Har-mit Trust

EIGHTY-four-year-old Rita Sikand watches from the terrace as the shadows lengthen across Delhi8217;s prosperous Greater Kailash I. Mange Lal Jain, a diamond merchant slightly younger than Sikand, has just driven home after a long day.

One is from Burma and speaks only English, the other is a shuddh Hindi-speaking Rajasthani. At dinner in the air-conditioned living room, one will have spicy mattar paneer and arhar dal, the other will have bland versions of the same.

Just another odd couple in the evening of their lives? Not really, certainly not so odd in urban India, circa 2004. Sikand and Jain are two of the increasing tribe of independent greys, choosing to maintain their dignity and self-respect by living on their own.

Some of today8217;s old age homes are big on comfort. At the Har-mit Trust, home to Sikand and Jain, there8217;s an elevator with 24-hour power back-up and a discreet cleaning staff who move in when a resident moves out.

The bright yellow and blue linen smells fresh, the mattresses on the double beds are firm and springy. There is ample space in the wall cupboards, a telephone connection with STD/ISD in each room, armchairs for visitors, and a dresser by the window.

The Trust was originally the residence of Dr Avtar Pennathur, a psychologist who donated the building and continues to live on the premises.

The house was renovated by interior designer and trust member Ketaki Sood. It now features three floors, with an elevator to make the commute convenient. The ground floor is a living room, which converts into a seminar hall once a month. Residents, as well as other senior citizens, have participated in workshops by the Delhi police department, the Art of Living foundation, and in lectures on nutritional therapy and other topics. On the agenda is a visit by kindergarten students of the Delhi Public School International for a storytelling session.

But this kind of serenity comes at a cost8212;varying from Rs 750 per day for a simple bed-and-bath to Rs 2,250 per day for a double occupancy suite, with a private dining-cum- living room, kitchenette, and attached bath.

Permanent residency costs between Rs 5 lakh and 10 lakh, with refunds written in. Electricity and telephone charges are extra. 8216;8216;The price is steep but it8217;s a comfortable place,8217;8217; says Sikand. 8216;8216;Living alone is too dangerous these days. Here there8217;s security at the gate, and they take good care of me. That8217;s all I need.8221;

Contact Avtar Pennathur at 011-26411375
or 30929080

Pooja Kumar

BANGALORE
Kutumb

A loud, rhythmic clapping wakes me up at the crack of dawn. It8217;s my next door neighbour, GS Visweswaran, a resident of Kutumb, a senior citizens8217; home outside Bangalore. Visweswaran suffers from Parkinson8217;s disease, and Meera G, the manager of Kutumb, has told him that swinging his arms in wide horizontal arcs and bringing them together firmly in a clap has health benefits. So every morning, he claps for 15 minutes.

The year-old Kutumb, 35 km from Bangalore, is part of the privately owned Nisarga residential layout. Clean airy rooms open onto a central courtyard of medicinal and aromatic herbs. A large dining room has pots of artificial flowers on each table and cheerful laminated table mats featuring oranges. But this ex-Air India man from Mumbai doesn8217;t like Bangalore8212;not the changeable weather, not the potholed roads, not the lack of good public transport, not the laid-back attitude. But he doesn8217;t want to trouble his kids, who have their own lives, he says.

MR Gajendragad, the very fit, erudite, ex vice-chancellor of Shimoga8217;s Kuvempu University, spends all his time at the well-stocked library in the Nisarga club, free to all residents of the locality. Gajendragad has a problem with the mess. 8220;We should be given a choice,8221; he declares in his strident baritone, used to commanding attention from peers and students. 8220;There should be a menu we can order from.8221;

NK Ramanathan, an ex-sportsman from Hyderabad, is seething. He complains that there is no transport facility into town and back, and that there are no vegetables in the kitchen except potatoes. Meera listens calmly to the tirade, and when he is done, quietly takes me to the kitchen and shows me the well-stocked larder.

She tells me that while Kutumb itself does not have transportation facilities, there are public buses from the locality that go into town every day. But for the rates charged, public transportation just isn8217;t good enough. A single occupant economy room at Kutumb costs about Rs 7,000 per month, with a deposit of Rs 2 lakh. A shared deluxe room is Rs 9,000 per month, with a Rs 2 lakh deposit. There are rooms available on a sharing basis in both categories that cost up to Rs 4,500, with a Rs 1 lakh deposit.

Contact Meera G at 080 27826580

Roopa Pai