So, the most depressing day is here. A day when you’re constantly reminded by everyone – friends, family, neighbours, strangers, brands, businesses trying to sell to you, hoardings, pop ups, enemies, ex-girlfriends, future girlfriends, Tinder dates and what not – that you are an year older and have one less year left. To make that impact. To reach that goal. To give happiness away. Hell, to be happy.
I know conventional wisdom says that I ought to be happy and get sloshed and throw parties and all that. I think the entire world has to be happy on my birthday. After all I am The One. Well, everyone is The One. But in my mind, my heart, I am.
Point being, the day is of course special. People look forward to it. People plan for it. Event managers like me actually make houses and what not, thanks to elaborate celebrations that people plan and the obscene amount of money they spend on the day.
Am sure at some point in time it was special for me as well. At least in 2004 (April 24, 2004) when I signed up for a google email address and a blog titled, well, septemberthe22nd. I don’t know when the switch flipped and I became an escapist. Yeah that’s the word. Escapist. I am sure I would be escaping something when I switched off my phone for the first time on my birthday. And since I’ve been pretty jobless almost all my life I would have easily escaped to a cave or something. And I would’ve liked the not speaking to people bit (afterall I get embarrassed about things and I dont know how to show gratitude or say thank you). And like a drug, I got hooked onto it. And it has sort of worked fine for me. And like any other creature of habit, I now do it every year. And I plan to do it for rest of my life.
Thing is, I’ve never understood all the festivity surrounding a birthday. Every day is a new day and you are sort of born everyday when you get up in the morning. Or in the afternoon, depends on how things are at your end. I am ok celebrating a new year – on Dec 31. Or on Diwali, as I’ve been taught as I was growing up. I am all for making yearly plans and resolutions about things you ought to do the next year. I actually take those pretty seriously – not that they work out often. But on the day you were born? I dont know if its worth all the hoopla around it.
You may argue that you turn over a year and you are older. And thus wiser and thus must celebrate. But you don’t add a year to your life at the flip of a button on your birthday. It’s a slow gradual process and you don’t even realise when the eyes begin to sag, the hairlines start to recede (lol) and that stoop in your walk becomes prominent. If it were a flip, it would be worth celebrating. But its not and no there is no celebration. Nah, every day is not a celebration. There are ups and downs. Highs and lows. Smiles and tears. And so on and so forth.
However, there is that silver lining as well. sgMS texts you. By herself. So what if the conversation is awkward and you exchange all of 4 texts? And 2 of those texts are emoticons and one is a “thank you” from your side? How many times does she message you by herself in a year? Once! And that by itself makes the ordeal worth the effort.
So what about plans for the 35th year of my life? The same – that has been around since I was 16. Get rich (Richest man in the world). Buy a cars (cars actually, latest obsession is GLS). Buy a house (houses around the world). Make some impact (enable people, eradicate poverty etc). Get fitter (30″, Everest). Fall in love. Learn new things. Work hard. Try and get sleep. Repeat till I die.
That’s it for the time being. And here is a thing before I leave you. Thank you Swanand for this.
Oh, and, one more thing. Thank you everyone for calling me, messaging me etc. I did not know that so many people care for me. Humbled. Really am. The best thing to have happened today yesterday? A peck on the cheek from MG as she cut my birthday cake 🙂