In the beauty world, we sanitise the inevitable process of ageing with euphemisms like ‘graceful’ or ‘mature.’ But there’s something raw and striking about calling it what it is: decay—a word that typically evokes images of decline and deterioration and one that we fear and flee from. And yet, in that very decay, there is also a strange, subversive beauty. It is the essence of a life fully lived, a badge of experiences, strength, and wisdom.
My journey with ageing began unintentionally. I have two striking money pieces—fully silver, naturally. At first, I left them alone simply because I wanted to prioritise the health of my hair. I avoided colour, heat, and harsh chemicals, not because I was trying to make a bold statement, but because I wanted to maintain the integrity of my hair. Ageing? That was never a concern. Looking older? It wasn’t a fear I held close. Yet, somehow, along the way, those untouched silver strands have become a personal signature. People point them out. They’ve come to symbolise my choice to embrace the natural state of things, even if it wasn’t my intention initially to do so.
I credit this nonchalant acceptance of ageing to my upbringing. In my family, age wasn’t something to be feared or resisted. My father, in fact, used to find joy in acting older than he really was. He would idolise his grandfather, a man of impeccable taste, who carried his walking sticks with the pride of a man who saw age as a marker of status and distinction. Ageing for women, however, is a different journey. While I embrace my father’s perspective, I also try to embody my mother’s quiet grace. She never batted an eyelid when someone called her aunty, accepting each passing year, each changing line on her face with elegance.
When I sat down to talk to her about ageing, my mother shared the one thing that bothered her the most. Her glasses! Not wrinkles, not grey hair (which she only recently decided to wear naturally while her peers continue to colour theirs), but glasses. The aches and pains or the slight sag of her skin don’t faze her. She sees them as signs of a life well-lived. She recounted the time she lost a significant amount of weight and decided, casually, to get her laugh lines filled in. No debates, no existential crisis. Just a simple act of looking in the mirror and deciding what felt right for her. For my mother, and for many women like her, it’s not about society’s expectations. It’s about your reflection and how you choose to embrace it.
Theatre veteran, actor, and director Lillette Dubey resonates deeply with this point of view. For Dubey, ageing has brought about new perspectives and a renewed sense of vitality. She speaks with such conviction about how, in her family, looks were never a currency that held much value. This gave her the freedom to age without equating the fine lines on her face with a loss of beauty. She loves her age, she doesn’t hide it, and she doesn’t feel pressured to do so. Dubey, who started her career at the age of 46, feels her wrinkles are merely markers of the vibrant life she has led—a great career, a fulfilling family life, and a whole legacy of daughters and granddaughters to remind her of it. But as she points out, it’s not just the aesthetics of ageing that people struggle with.
Yes, ageing can take a toll, emotionally and mentally. Your body doesn’t move the way it used to, your mind can play tricks on you, and it’s easy to mourn what’s been lost. Dubey doesn’t shy away from that reality. Yet she says, “It shouldn’t stop you.” Her secret? Caring for her health as she ages has been a vital tool in continuing to live fully. “I trek. I’ve got a bucket list of things I want to do before I die, and the care I give my body now will ensure that I can do those things.” Ageing, then, becomes not a roadblock, but a checkpoint. It’s a moment to take stock and start prioritising the body that will carry you through all the things you still wish to accomplish. For Dubey, health has brought her the kind of joy that only deepens with each passing year.
This notion of cherishing the ageing process came up in a conversation I had with Mrudul Pathak Kundu, the editor of ELLE Decor, India. She, too, has noticed the changes that come with age. Post-hysterectomy, her body has slowed down, and aches and pains she didn’t experience before have popped up. But far from dreading these changes, she has learned to embrace them. She loves the grey in her hair, though the frizz could do with some taming, she says. Wrinkles? She’s preparing herself mentally to live with them. “I’ve always been surrounded by confident women, starting with my mother, who never wore makeup, yet is so graceful and beautiful,” she says, adding how these women have shaped her outlook. She doesn’t idolise youth. Instead, she looks up to older women, those in their 60s and 70s, who have energy, vitality, and a contagious zest for life. To her, ageing isn’t about fading away; it’s about living as fully as possible for as long as you can.
Artist, model, and influencer Ketaki Pimpalkhare echoes this sentiment. For her, every wrinkle around her eyes is a reminder of how much she has smiled, and every laugh line around her mouth is a testament to how much joy she has shared. The greys in her hair? A reminder of the years that have passed, of the wisdom they’ve brought with them. “I’m not using chemicals that will spoil my hair. Neither am I trying to make a point,” she says. “I wear it like a crown that represents experience and strength.” In a world obsessed with youth, Pimpalkhare’s view of ageing is simple: there is no replacing the years gone by, no erasing the lessons life has taught her. “Ageing is strength and contentment,” she says. “It’s a slowing down, yes, but it’s also a reminder of the expiry date we all come with.”
What these women, and the conversations I’ve had with them, have taught me is that acceptance is the cornerstone of happiness as you age. From Dubey’s relentless pursuit of adventure and Pathak’s admiration for the wisdom age brings to Pimpalkahre’s quiet pride in wearing her years visibly, the message is clear: care for yourself, both physically and mentally, but never run from the reflection in the mirror. My own mother’s approach to ageing—maintaining hydration throughout her youth and into her later years—is a simple yet profound lesson. The skin she has today, smooth and glowing even at her age, is thanks to a lifetime of small, consistent care.
And that, really, is the beauty of decay. It’s not about decline; it’s about evolution. These signs are not to be feared but embraced. Ageing, if anything, is a privilege. And as the women I’ve spoken to have shown me, it’s also a journey. One where beauty doesn’t fade; it deepens. So perhaps we should stop fearing the word decay. In it, there is an inherent beauty, one that only reveals itself with time.
Read the full story on ELLE India’s new issue, or download your digital copy via Magzter.
