Dr. Fiaz Maqbool Fazili
“Who will be there for you in old age?”It is a question asked so often that it has become a social proverb. Parents ask it of their children. Relatives use it to justify life choices. Society repeats it as if having children automatically guarantees comfort, companionship, and care in later years.But life increasingly tells a different story.
In one of my earlier columns, I discussed what psychologists call the “Empty Nest Syndrome”, which received worldwide appreciation —the emotional void experienced by parents when children leave home to pursue education, careers, or marriage. At the time, many readers viewed it as a temporary phase. Yet what we are witnessing today goes far beyond empty nests. It is emerging as a silent social epidemic: the growing loneliness, isolation, and emotional abandonment of the elderly.
Most parents spend their lives making sacrifices for their children. They work tirelessly, often denying themselves comforts and opportunities, so that their children may enjoy better prospects. They save every rupee, invest in education, postpone personal dreams, and devote decades to nurturing lives they cherish more than their own.For many, the ultimate goal becomes seeing their children “settled.”Ironically, our definition of being settled has also changed. Increasingly, when choosing a spouse for a son or daughter, families prefer someone already established abroad or likely to migrate. A foreign address has become a symbol of success. Parents celebrate when children move to distant cities or countries, convinced that they have secured a brighter future.Yet few pause to ask a difficult question:What becomes of the parents left behind?
Ageing is not a static condition. It is a continuous journey. As years advance, so do physical limitations, emotional needs, dependence, vulnerability, and the desire for companionship. What begins as occasional assistance gradually becomes a need for regular support, meaningful interaction, and human presence.Technology has undoubtedly reduced distances. WhatsApp messages, FaceTime calls, and video conversations allow families to stay connected across continents. They provide reassurance and temporary comfort.But can technology replace presence?Can a video call accompany an elderly person to a doctor’s appointment? Can a text message share a silent cup of tea on a lonely afternoon? Can an emoji substitute for a warm embrace during illness, grief, or fear?Digital communication can reduce distance, but it cannot eliminate loneliness.
I once knew an elderly woman who had five children. Five lives she nurtured, protected, educated, and loved unconditionally. Her children were her purpose, her strength, and her motivation through every hardship life presented.Yet when she entered the most vulnerable phase of her life, none were truly present.Some lived abroad. Others were consumed by professional obligations and family responsibilities. They cared, certainly. They sent money, gifts, and occasional messages. But care delivered from a distance could not fill the silence of an empty home.Her story is not unique.
Across Kashmir and elsewhere, one increasingly encounters elderly couples—or worse, elderly individuals—living alone in large houses built with the dreams and earnings of a lifetime. These homes once echoed with children’s laughter and family gatherings. Today many stand quiet, occupied by ageing parents and perhaps a domestic helper.Material comfort cannot cure emotional isolation.A sincere helper may provide assistance. A caretaker may administer medicines. But neither can replace the affection, companionship, and sense of belonging that every human being craves.The reality is uncomfortable but necessary to acknowledge: children are not a guarantee against loneliness.Love cannot be demanded, inherited, or expected merely because of blood relations. Genuine care grows from mutual respect, shared values, emotional bonds, and relationships nurtured over time.
There are childless individuals whose lives are enriched by devoted friends, caring neighbours, community members, and companions. They invested years in building meaningful relationships and cultivating goodwill.Conversely, there are people surrounded by relatives who feel profoundly alone.
The issue therefore extends beyond family structures. It touches upon how we, as a society, understand ageing itself.In many developed societies, community support systems complement family support. Senior citizens have access to clubs, activity centres, community networks, volunteer programmes, assisted living facilities, and recreational spaces designed specifically for older adults. These institutions provide opportunities for social interaction, lifelong learning, physical activity, and purposeful engagement.
What do we offer our elderly?Where are our senior citizens’ clubs? Where are our “Houses of Sukoon and Taskeen”—places where older adults can gather, converse, read, pray, learn, share experiences, and simply enjoy companionship?How many neighbourhoods have organised programmes for elderly engagement?How many localities encourage intergenerational activities that bring youth and seniors together? The answer is often disappointing.Our discourse on ageing remains largely confined to pensions, medical care, and occasional family obligations. While these are important, they address only part of the challenge.
Loneliness itself is a public health concern.Research across the world has repeatedly linked social isolation among older adults with depression, anxiety, cognitive decline, reduced physical health, and even increased mortality. Human beings are social creatures. Emotional deprivation can be as damaging as physical illness.Yet we rarely discuss it.Perhaps because loneliness leaves no visible wound.Perhaps because elderly people suffer quietly, unwilling to burden their children or complain about circumstances they believe cannot be changed.
As life expectancy increases, this issue will become more significant. We are entering an era where more people will live into their seventies, eighties, and beyond. The question is not merely how long we live, but how well we live.A society that prides itself on family values must move beyond rhetoric and develop structures that support healthy ageing.
We need community centres dedicated to seniors. We need social clubs, cultural programmes, educational activities, wellness initiatives, and volunteer networks. We need opportunities for older adults to contribute their wisdom, skills, and experiences. We need public spaces that welcome and engage them rather than confining them to isolation.
Most importantly, we need a cultural shift in how we think about ageing.Children should not be viewed as retirement plans.Nor should elderly parents measure their worth by how frequently their children visit or call.Relationships flourish when they are built on love rather than obligation, affection rather than guilt, and choice rather than compulsion.Old age should not be feared.It should be respected, supported, and enriched.The greatest gift in life is not having people who must remain by your side because society expects them to. It is having people who choose to remain by your side because love, respect, and genuine human connection inspire them to do so.As individuals, families, civil society groups, policymakers, and communities, we must ask ourselves an important question:
Have we done enough to prepare for the ageing society that is already upon us?Because the true measure of a compassionate society is not how it treats its strongest members, but how it cares for those who have spent their lives caring for others.The silent epidemic of loneliness among the elderly is real. Ignoring it today may mean experiencing it ourselves tomorrow.
The Author is a columnist who writes on civilized society, ethical values, healthcare, and social reforms, and regularly raises awareness on issues concerning moral responsibility, civic consciousness, and community welfare.
