There’s a strange kind of doublethink at play today. We celebrate ageing gracefully—and yet, we spend thousands smoothing out the very lines that come with grace. With Instagram, filters, reels—beauty is under a constant spotlight. Botox smooths skin, enhances symmetry, and creates that “camera-ready” face without going under the knife.
My daughter came home wide eyed and said, ‘Mumma, my classmate’s grandma doesn’t look like a dadi—she looks like herchachi!’ Turns out, she was full of Botox. Smooth forehead, pouty lips, not a line in sight.
When people start looking unusually young, it does something strange—it blurs roles, confuses perception, and breaks generational codes. We expect grand- mothers to look like grand-mothers. When they don’t, it’s not just their face that’s changed—it’s how we relate to them.
But the bigger question is: why this urge to erase age so completely? Delve deep into the psyche of women and a billionaire’s wife reveals in a private intimate conversation- “We women become a depreciating asset over time. He (husband) will find beauties swooning over him even in his 70s, 80s, 90s despite his bulging tummy and balding head. His worth is measured by his wealth and in a woman’s case, by her beauty. And that’s the honest truth.” From KP Singh finding love at 91 to Warren Buffett remarrying SOON after his first wife’s death, and Gates, Trump… the rich surely don’t retire from romance (and often with someone decades younger).
Take the case of women, and their currency is youth and even more dangerously, ageing has become OPTIONAL. And once something becomes optional, not opting in can feel like opting out of desirability, of relevance, even of self-respect. It’s not just about beauty—it’s about belonging. About clinging to youth in a culture that sidelines the old. Looking young becomes a form of social survival. A way to stay seen. Relevant. Wanted.
But in chasing the ageless look, we may be ageing out of authenticity. When everyone looks like they’re 30—who teaches the 30-year-olds what 60 looks like?
There’s a strange kind of doublethink at play today. We celebrate ageing gracefully—and yet, we spend thousands smoothing out the very lines that come with grace. With Instagram, filters, reels—beauty is under a constant spotlight. Botox smooths skin, enhances symmetry, and creates that “camera-ready” face without going under the knife. We claim to embrace our natural selves, while Botox clinics and filter-heavy selfies quietly tell another story. And Botox used to be a five-star service. Today, it’s available in dermat clinics, medispas, and even mall-based salons. EMI options, packages, and influencer marketing make it both aspirational and accessible. Thanks to celebs and content creators being open about injectables, botox is now talked about like skincare—just with a needle.
And do you know where it is leading younger women to… Women in their late 20s and early 30s are starting early—not to reverse wrinkles, but to prevent them. This shift toward “prejuvenation” is trending globally, and India’s catching on.
It’s also creating problems in society where middle aged women end up attracting young suitors. And then what happens when the expectations, emotional maturity, or life stages don’t align? There’s thrill, yes. But more than that confusion, embarrassment and disasters.
So why do we, especially women, want to look eternally young?
The short answer: because youth is valued and you are painfully undervalued with age. We live in a culture where being young isn’t just desirable—it’s a form of social capital. Youth equals energy, beauty, relevance, and vitality. Ageing, on the other hand, is often equated with decline: physical, social, and professional. This isn’t new, but the tools to delay ageing are newer, sharper, and more accessible than ever before.
Earlier generations didn’t have Botox on EMI. They didn’t have under-eye fillers at mall kiosks or YouTube dermatologists telling them that “prejuvenation” at 28 is smart self-care. Today, the pressure to “not age” doesn’t just come from movies or magazines—it’s algorithmic. Your face on Zoom. Your reel views. Your dating profile. The ring light that flatters but also reveals.
But here’s the twist: the desire to look young is no longer just about beauty. It’s about control. For many women, especially those in their 30s and 40s, injectables are not vanity—they’re agency. After years of being told how to look and what to wear, choosing Botox is, ironically, a personal decision to own the mirror again.
Yet, we must ask: what happens when youth becomes the only acceptable version of ourselves?
There is nothing wrong with aesthetic enhancements. What’s wrong is when one’s age becomes a liability—at work, in relationships, in how seriously we’re taken. And that is not a skin-deep problem. That’s societal.
Let’s normalize ageing not as a decline but as a deepening. Let’s allow a wrinkle to mean wisdom, not weakness. And while we may still love our serums and shots, let them be tools—not terms—for belonging.
Because ageing is not the enemy. The fear of becoming invisible is.
