MARIA AND ADOLF PINTO: The groom was 64, the bride 45 when they tied the knot five years ago

Adolf Pinto was 64 when he got married. Five years on, Pinto is enjoying life-he retired as senior vice-president after a 37-year stint in Godrej-and basking in the joys of marital bliss. Time for him and his 50-year-old wife Maria has stood still. The couple met through a common friend and wed-it was the first time for both-at a formal ceremony in front of 250 guests at St Theresa's Church in Khar, Mumbai. Says Pinto, who has also taught at the Jamnalal Bajaj Institute of Management in Mumbai: "The right time to enjoy life is after 60. My life has just begun." For Maria, "it's better late than never".

So too for retired army doctor N. Gopalakrishnan and his medical school batchmate, paediatrician C. Jayakumari. They married a decade and a half after the death of Gopalakrishnan's first wife. The two met at a college reunion in Kerala last year and it stoked an old flame. "She was a widow," says Gopalakrishnan. "Her three children were married and settled elsewhere. We were in the same boat." The empty nest syndrome led the couple to "read each other's minds" and they married at a quiet ceremony in Chennai last month. Their honeymoon is not yet over. Says Gopalakrishnan, who has been a psychiatric consultant at Apollo Hospital in Chennai and now runs his own clinic with his son-in-law who is also a doctor: "I guess I was born 25 years before time." He's 67, going on 42.

ONCE BITTEN, TWICE BOLD: Parmanand, 72, says it would be difficult to find a devoted wife, but he's still optimistic (left); twice-married Malhotra, 65, is looking for a new bride

Across the country, there are elders who are pitching for a second shot at life to combat retirement blues, loneliness and the prospect of sage celibacy thrust on them after spousal death. There have also been instances of celebrities taking a shot at geriatric domesticity: legendary Tamil actor Gemini Ganesan took his fourth wife at 79. Others include editor-turned-diplomat H.K. Dua and Alyque Padamsee who wed singer Sharon Prabhakar. Consider this matrimonial insert in the Sunday classifieds of a leading national daily: "Though 80, yet much younger like 60 ... in excellent dynamic health ... have wealthy estates ... searching for true soulmate ..." Last heard, the advertiser was still looking for a suitable bride.

HelpAge India has a similar letter among a flood of others suggesting it open a marriage bureau for those above 60. As one 76-year-old from Dehradun writes in earnest, "I have given out several ads over the past five years and received about a hundred responses, most of them from women between 35-55 years. They corresponded even after knowing I have had two heart attacks." Another letter from a septuagenarian from Delhi even requests HelpAge to look up a match for him because "the astrologer said I will live till 90 and I need someone to share the rest of my life with". No geriatric quirks these but, as HelpAge spokesperson Nidhi Raj Kapoor avers, "serious contenders who want a second shot at life".

With mailboxes overflowing with such requests, HelpAge launched a random survey of matrimonial sites and services as part of an ongoing nationwide study on loneliness and remarriage among senior citizens. It threw up a not-so-staggering but significant figure: an estimated 10 per cent of people who apply for matrimony through ads are over 60, some even 80. "But the good thing is," says Kapoor, "it may even help them hit 100."

C. JAYAKUMARI AND N. GOPALAKRISHNAN: Both were 67 and batchmates in medical school. They met at a school reunion, "read each other's minds" and wed last month

Physical frailties may come in the way but what is important is to be wed, loved and looked after at a time when most have lost jobs, spouses and social standing, and have solitude staring them in the face. Delhi's Sycorian Matrimonial Services lists at least 100 applicants over 60 on its registers. Says proprietor Manish Kaushal: "Most of them are not rigid about caste, creed or age. We even entertained a 60-year-old man who said he wanted a 22-year-old bride. It's important that they are opening up." What more and more senior citizens want is a "legitimate relationship" accepted by society even if not preceded by elaborate ceremony. Other constraints, like children and finances, have to be dealt with too. Explains Chennai-based marital therapist Vijay Nagaswami: "Progressive nuclearisation of the family is to blame. At this age, the need for companionship and mutual emotional comfort is at its highest and when they take a new person into their lives, they are generally readier to give."

Also, sex is not totally undeniable. Sexologists say that the sex drive-estrogen/testosterone levels-among seniors may decline but not disappear. Mumbai-based Dignity Foundation that works for senior citizens has a matrimonial column (euphemistically called "Pen Pal") in its magazine Dignity Dialogue, and has published articles on sex among seniors. "Sexual needs of seniors are often not talked about, but it's real," says Sheilu Sreenivasan, the foundation president. "It's a misconception," rues Gopalakrishnan, also a behavioural scientist, "that those over 55 are perceived as asexual beings." But more than sex, it's love and respect that can consummate a marriage.

Most times, however, it's not easy to be second-time lucky. Like Parmanand, a 72-year-old widower and former government servant, who lives alone in the first floor of his three-storeyed house in Delhi. "I do feel lonely. But it will be difficult to find a devoted wife again." Yet, he has not given up. To most, optimism is not a dying sentiment. Yet. It's the key that can open the door to a second life, a life before death. Some, like Parmanand, are still hopeful they will not die lonely. He says, "Sometimes when I fall sick, I think I have so much money but nobody to look after me. That's when I look upwards and call God."

P.P. Malhotra, 65, has no need of divine intervention. After his wife Kaushalya's death 13 years ago, Malhotra, a retired government officer, was left with two unmarried sons and a house in Delhi's Pitampura. After three years, Malhotra remarried. Two years ago, his second wife deserted him but that hasn't damped his spirits. "So what if you are a little over the hill?" asks the twice-married man, "You need a companion at this age."

Malhotra has put out an ad in the papers for the third time. "I would love to get married," he says, carelessly brushing his carefully dyed mop. "I am healthy and that's why I want to do it again."

That's not old age, but the age of reason.