Redefining retirement in an age of longevity
Retiring with grace stands as one of life’s profound arts, especially for those who have scaled the heights of renown in their chosen fields. It is the elegance of departure at the precise moment when the world hungers for more, when applause still echoes, and admiration burns brightest. Such exits carve themselves into collective memory, outlasting the clamour of prolonged tenures.
History brims with these luminous farewells when the warrior who sheathes his sword at victory’s peak and the poet who pens his final verse as inspiration surges. Yet, in our era of extended lifespans, this noble tradition frays. Once mortality claimed luminaries mid-glory like Mozart, whose genius flickered out at 35, or our own Subramania Bharathiyar, the revolutionary firebrand, burned bright until 39, his patriotic verses still igniting Tamil hearts. In those shorter lifespans, fate often decided. Today, medicine’s triumphs extend our days, but wisdom urges us not to overstay.
Consider the ancients. In Vedic lore, the sannyasin renounced worldly bonds after fulfilling duties, wandering into wisdom’s quiet embrace. Roman emperors like Marcus Aurelius pondered the stoic virtue of timely withdrawal, knowing power’s allure could corrupt the soul. Even in sport, legends like Bjorn Borg quit tennis at 26, his mystique untarnished, while Muhammad Ali’s graceful bow following his stunning eighth-round knockout of George Foreman on October 30, 1974, in Kinshasa, Zaire, lingers as poetry. These were not defeats but deliberate crescendos, leaving audiences yearning.
Contrast this with modern reluctance. Politicians grip thrones into senescence, their once vital visions calcifying into irrelevance. Corporate titans amass empires yet hoard control, stunting heirs who pace in shadows. Judges, vested with robes of authority, resist the Bench’s end craving for post retiral positions, as if justice’s scales tip only in their hands. Singers whose voices once soared now strain for notes long faded; composers recycle motifs from yesteryear. Why this clinging? Even Bollywood and Kollywood stars chase comebacks by strutting as superheroes, wobbling alongside heroines young enough to be their granddaughters and dimming their own fading stardust. Why this grip? Perhaps we have forgotten how to live beyond our professions, our identities fused to titles and stages.
The culprit lies partly in biology’s triumph. Global life expectancy has surged from 47 in 1900 to over 73 today, and climbing in nations like India. Medicine’s miracles extend our days, but not always our prime. Neuroscience tells us that cognitive peaks often wane by the late 60s, creativity’s fire dimming as neural pathways rigidify. Yet we persist, driven by fear: fear of emptiness, irrelevance, or the void where power once pulsed. In boardrooms and courtrooms, this manifests as stagnation. Young talents, brimming with innovation, languish in waiting rooms, their ardour cooling. Societies calcify and progress halts. By overstaying, we do not honour our peaks; we erode them, turning adulation into quiet pity.
Exceptions dazzle, of course — Clint Eastwood is 95 years old. He directed his latest film, Juror #2, in 2024 and, as of mid-2025, was in pre-production on a new project, refusing to retire. Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s unyielding jurisprudence until 87. Krishnammal Jagannathan, who is now 99, continues as a social activist from the State of Tamil Nadu. These outliers sustain excellence through discipline or destiny, proving age need not dull brilliance. But exceptions do not forge rules.
Statistics paint a starker picture and studies from Harvard’s Grant Study, tracking lives over decades, reveal that forced retirements often yield fulfilment, while prolonged careers breed regret. In India, where familial legacies thrive, clinging risks dynasty’s fracture. Fans who once chanted your name now crave for renewal; followers, once inspired, grow restive. We are blissfully ignorant that all of us go into saturation and have a shelf life.
This longevity paradox demands we redefine retirement not as obsolescence, but as reinvention. Envision it as a second ascent where a judge can mentor the aspirants in various forums, channelling wisdom sans gavel like what Justice Krishna Aiyer did or an executive launching philanthrocapital ventures; the artist curating academies for proteges. Retirement becomes not exit, but expansion — a pivot to mentorship, reflection, creation unbound by duty. Cultures like Japan’s “ikigai” offer clues, blending purpose across life’s acts. In Tamil tradition, the elder’s role evolves from warrior to sage, as in the epics where kings yield to gurus. Modern pioneers echo this and author Atul Gawande champions “pre-mortem” planning for graceful handovers. Yet redefinition requires courage. For in refusing to leave, we deny not just others, but ourselves the peace of sunsets after brilliant dawns.
Our elongated lives challenge retirement’s essence, but they also invite its evolution. Will we cling to fading spotlights, or step into legacies that illuminate generations? The choice defines not our end, but our immortality. Graceful exit is no relic rather is wisdom’s next frontier. Embrace it, dear reader, and history will applaud not what you held, but what you wisely relent.
anaushram44@gmail.com
The author is a judge of the Madras High Court
Published – February 01, 2026 03:06 am IST
