Looking younger means little if you cannot see clearly, discovers Sankar Sri Pillai.

For nearly 15 years, I had successfully avoided prescription glasses.
“Successfully” is perhaps generous. I had simply stopped wearing them, partly because I convinced myself I could manage without them and partly because glasses, in my mind, belonged to a slightly older version of me.
This was an important distinction. I was not getting older. I was merely becoming more experienced, distinguished and increasingly dependent on enlarging the font on my phone.
Then I started driving.
Getting my driving licence rather late in life had already introduced me to several uncomfortable truths. Chief among them was that Dubai roads look very different when you are responsible for navigating them rather than sitting comfortably in the passenger seat offering unsolicited advice.
Suddenly, signboards mattered. Lane markings mattered. And discovering whether the object ahead was a speed camera, a road sign or an unusually rectangular tree mattered enormously.
My grand experiment in looking young had encountered an unexpected obstacle: eyesight.
My wife, naturally, was delighted. “So after 15 years, you can finally see me properly?” she asked when I appeared wearing my new glasses.
I sensed danger immediately. “Yes,” I said carefully.
“And?” Marriage teaches you that some questions have no correct answer. “You look exactly the same,” I replied.
Apparently, that was also the wrong answer.
The real revelation came at the office.
Colleagues who had known me exclusively in my glasses-free era suddenly stared as though I had arrived wearing a false moustache.
“You look intellectual,” someone said.
This was encouraging until another colleague added: “Actually, you look like you are about to explain our quarterly results.” Someone else simply said: “Older.”
There is always one colleague committed to accuracy. But the glasses had already won me over because the world had suddenly switched to high definition. Emails became sharper. Faces became clearer. Things I had previously assumed were tasteful design features around the office turned out to be dust.
This was progress I could have done without.
Driving, however, settled the argument. The evening office run home through Dubai traffic is not the ideal environment for fuzzy interpretation. Cars change lanes with ambition. Motorbikes materialise from dimensions not yet recognised by science. Navigation instructions arrive precisely when three exits appear simultaneously.
With glasses, suddenly everything was clearer. Road signs stopped being abstract art. Number plates emerged from the mist. I could identify exits before reaching the philosophical point where Google Maps says, “Recalculating.”
There was also an unexpected confidence that came from actually seeing where I was going. My wife noticed this too.
“You’re driving better with glasses,” she admitted. I smiled. “Obviously.”
“Don’t get excited,” she added. “You still park like you don’t have them.” And there it was: clarity, in every sense.
After 15 years of trying to look younger by avoiding glasses, I have discovered the flaw in the strategy. There is very little youthful glamour in squinting at a road sign while leaning towards the windscreen.
So the glasses are staying. They may make me look older. They may make colleagues think I am preparing an Excel presentation. But I can finally see clearly where I am going. At my age, that may be the more stylish option.
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