River Into the Ocean: Reflections Before Retirement...

River Into the Ocean: Reflections Before Retirement...

I shall be turning sixty soon and with that, retiring from Government after more than three decades of service. There is a feeling of joy and satisfaction, each time I say , I am going to retire. For me, saying those words are not only matter of fact but also beautiful. Retirement is such a simple inevitability yet is one word that evokes such different emotions in people.

Yesterday, someone I know , a well-meaning, well-placed acquaintance  looked at me  with an expression usually reserved for condolence visits. “That’s sad,” she said, when I said to her that I am retiring. I was very amused.

Sad? That a life of over three remarkable decades in public service is completing one of its most meaningful era? That I shall be turning sixty with both feet firmly on the ground, a heart full of stories, and a diary brimming with things yet to be done? This certainly isn’t sadness but the another beautiful blessing in my life. 

Retirement is often spoken of in hushed tones, as though it is an ending to be mourned. And that maybe because society has taught us to measure identity through designations, offices, authority and positions. When those symbols begin to loosen their hold, many mistake it for loss. There is a peculiar sorrow that grips people when they  or someone they know  have to relinquish a position. If you watch it closely, you will find it is rarely about the person. It is about the power they wielded, the chair they occupied, the title that preceded their name in every room they entered. Yes, as a society, we have confused identity with designation. We have mistaken the office for the officer. 

In reality, power, in its truest sense, was never the property of a position. The IAS officer, the CEO, the Commissioner , the Collector these are roles that are assigned for a term. What endures is character. What outlasts all titles is contribution because life is larger than a visiting card. 

Turning sixty in India also has mythological connotations. It is known as Shastipoorthi,  the completion of a full cycle, celebrated in our traditions as a second birth, a moment to begin life anew with accumulated wisdom. The Gita reminds us that the soul does not age; it only witnesses. What we call a career is merely one chapter of a far longer story.

Sant Tukaram, found his truest voice not in his youth but in the fullness of his years. Savitribai Phule, spent her life beginning again, each time with greater courage, each time with a wider compass of care. 

Life in any case is very uncertain. We do not know what each morning will bring, which phone call will alter everything, which casual interaction will become a defining memory. In all this uncertainty, reaching the age of sixty with a clear conscience, good health, and a heart still hungry for purpose is not a small thing. It is a triumph of reaching a milestone with peace, gratitude and joy which must feel like grace and not like sorrow. In the words of Sir Edmund Hillary, “ It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves.” 

To look back at one’s years of dedicated service without bitterness, regret, or exhaustion, and with happiness is a blessing. Besides, there is dignity in stepping aside gracefully. There is courage in embracing uncertainty again and there is freedom in discovering who you are beyond your designation.  For me, retirement does not feel like an ending at all. It feels like standing at the edge of a river I have travelled faithfully for years, watching it merge into something larger, deeper, and limitless. And I look forward to that ocean with joy because nothing stops a person from contributing to society after retirement. What stops someone who has spent decades accumulating knowledge, networks, and perspective as resources that most institutions would envy ? Perhaps it is fear of being without a designation, of contributing without a letterhead, of mattering without an office despite having abundance of time now!

But consider the women of Maharashtra’s Self-Help Groups , UMED Abhiyan whom I had the privilege to work with. Many of them had nothing: no title, no office, no official recognition. And yet they built enterprises, rebuilt families, and redefined communities. Their power was never in position. It was in purpose. If they could do that, with so little, surely those of us who have spent decades in service can do something magnificent when finally free.  As Ralph Waldo Emerson has said, “The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honourable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.”

And isn’t there a quiet accounting one does as retirement approaches. Not of achievements since  those are already written. But of moments one has deferred, the book that stayed in the mind and never made it to paper, the village at dawn that went unphotographed, the poem that stayed incomplete, the destinations one has never travelled to, the conversation that was to happen “after this project.” Retirement would be the end of deferral. It would be a moment when the self would finally get an appointment with itself.

For years, we work against time, deadlines, files, responsibilities, emergencies, expectations, postponing living itself. We tell ourselves that one day we shall read more, travel more, write more, listen more, sit quietly more, laugh without looking at the clock more.

So retirement is not withdrawal from life, it is an invitation back to it.There are conversations yet to be had, communities yet to be served, journeys yet to be undertaken, books yet to be written, mornings yet to be enjoyed without urgency, and silences yet to be understood.

And my list is ready. There is research to complete , a doctoral thesis on deserted women that must become the voice those women deserve. There is writing to be done, essays, poems, reflections that a busy career pushed to the margins. There is travel, learning, mentoring and perhaps, most joyfully, the simple luxury of being present in a room without an agenda.

I have always been fascinated by the flow of a river. It begins in the mountains, narrow, cold, purposeful and winds its way through plains and cities, carrying silt and stories alike. It does not hesitate at the delta. It does not mourn the mountains. It simply opens into something vaster than itself.

To those who look at me with despair when I speak of retiring, I want to say this gently: it is not your sympathy I need, but your company if you dare. Come, let us explore what happens when experience is finally set free yet continues to work with the same passion. Let us see what we can build for our communities, for our children, for ourselves  when the only brief we follow is the brief of the heart. 

That is how I see the coming phase of my life. Not as an end, but as a new beginning. Less bounded, more boundless, purposeful yet free. The river of life does not end when it leaves familiar banks. It simply widens into the ocean. And oceans are not endings. They are vastness and I am looking forward to merge into that ocean with joy.

 

R.Vimala, IAS, 

Resident Commissioner & Secretary, 

Government of Maharashtra & 

PhD Scholar at IIT Bombay