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1/3rd down, 2/3rd to go: A Birthday Post

April 6, 2010


“Happy Birthday! And congratulations on turning 25:  1/3rd of your life is now over. I hope you enjoyed it. Hahahhahaha”– Bawa (26)

 “Dude, forget about smashing the cake. We’re too old for that”-Thana (25)

So it’s my 25th birthday. Sad, no?

I’m not someone who worries about age or frets about getting older. So you can imagine that when the moment came, I lightly concluded that hitting the big half-half-century mark was no cause for either worry or *shudder* reflection.

As far as I was concerned, it marked nothing more than the 4th year of legally celebrating birthdays the way God intended them to be-  sitting with friends sharing a cold pitcher of the good stuff. Unfortunately, the joy-sucking Death Eaters of Azkaban who pose as my friends would have none of it.

Just in case Bawa and Thana’s mordant vs morbid act weren’t enough, my Death Eaters came over to press the point home. They arrived sharp at midnight to assault me with sympathetic pats on the back where sentimental kicks-on-the-rear once reigned peacefully. They hurled firms shakes of the hand at me when once nothing less than a loving double-pasting of rotten cake+toothpaste+ketchup would’ve satisfied.

This was not what I was expecting. The pasting, filthy as it was, was a tradition. The dog-pile was practically a ritual! All abandoned because “we are older now.” As you can imagine, my joy at not needing to wash out out icing from my facial cavities was completely overshadowed by the loneliness that comes when my Death Eaters decide they’ve outgrown a beloved tradition.

See, getting older does freak him out. No, I still say that its not the getting older that worries me. At least not in the I-can’t-do-what-I-used-to or those-were-the-days kind of way.  I think my real umm… apprehension… is not that I’m getting older and changing too fast but rather that I don’t feel I am getting older or changing at all.  I feel I sort of plateaued after 19.

I’m almost certain that’s weird.

Meanwhile, the family speaks of fast-approaching responsibilities and of responsibilities that whizzed past me in my early twenties – now behind me – while I was busy being “footloose and fancy free” (more on growing up in a vedic-gurukul-meets-1900s-british-prep-school, later). They remind me that I will have to catch up on these responsibilities sometime soon. And just to make sure I get it, they clarify that by sometime soon of course they mean Now. Like, rather-than-writing-this-blog NOW.

It seems that getting older comes with its own peculiar air of breathless urgency and a dark creepy sense of performing actions whose consequences are rippling invisibly into the future.

I don’t like it.

So I’m going to address this problem the only way I know how to. The next Death Eater whose birthday comes up is going to get the filthiest double-smashnig of rotten cake+shaving foam+ chilly sauce and ketchup that has ever blighted a birthday boy, no matter what!

I don’t care if you’re “older” or not; whether 1/3rd of your life is over or not; whether you’re feeling “more mature” or whether you’re-married-and-you’re-wife-thinks-we’re-juvenile or not, the cake smashing, treat-taking, dog-pile giving traditions will continue till I’m physically capable of indulging in them!

Denial ki maa!

P.S: To clarify for the Death Eaters, this only means we revive our fine traditions for the next birthday. The window for kicking and cakeing me has closed. Bwahahahahahahaha!

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