On 10th May 1976, a boy was born in a distant suburb in Mumbai. The small boy after 29 years grows up to be…………..me.
I thought I should start with a dramatic sentence, just for effects. I used to read these types of sentences in my history books or those biographical essays in “Chandamama”. I complete my 29 today. I am not so enthusiastic in celebrating my own birthday. No particular reason for that or just maybe I am not comfortable being the center of attraction.
My parents use to celebrate my birthday when I was small. We live in MHADA colony where there are eight rooms on a single floor. There is a common balcony and all families were like a big joint family. No one use to close their doors during the day. Most of the children in my neighborhood were of the same age. It was fun celebrating each other’s birthday. Mom and dad used to bring cake and chips. There were also those Ravalgaon toffees along with each paper plate. My birthday came in the summer vacation, when most of the families use to be on vacation. I had these birthday parties, when I use to dress in my best shirt and pants and call all my friends. After the birthday, I use to distribute toffees to all the neighboring elders along with the special dish my mom made for my birthday. The whole affair took less than 20 minutes and less than 100 Rupees. So much fun at so little cost
After some years, when I was somewhere between 10-13 years and for reason I don’t remember, we stopped celebrating birthdays at home. My younger brother was less fortunate because I think he had fewer birthday parties than me. I don’t remember my birthdays after that. It used to be just another day and some of these days being worse than normal days.
Over the years it became easier counting people who remembered my birthday. There are some who remember my birthday wherever they are. Chetan never forgets my birthday, neither does Rahul. In fact I still remembered mom remembering my birthday after getting a call from Rahul.
And there was the time when she was a part of my life and had celebrated my birthday once. She made me lunch and made a big poster with a big “happy birthday” written over it and of course with a small “I love you” below it. I still remember that day when she insisted I spent the day with her. She had prepared a big menu and made a big thing for a small affair. She was a good cook. She made me feel like a king. I went home after her lunch. Had food that mom had prepared for me and then rushed to the office for the evening shift. It’s surprising that from the year I stopped celebrating my birthday and the time she celebrated my birthday, I don’t have recollection of any birthdays in between. It’s like the years in between never had a 10th May. I missed her very much the next year. I still treasure the poster.
So another year passes by. Another year adds to my life. A look back to the life I lived, it’s doesn’t seems that bad. I have completed my education, not in flying colors, but not bad either. I have a good job. Well there is this small regret of my paycheck not able to pay for the Ferrari or a private jet yet but I guess I am still a little far away from that.
I had been in love and the memories still feel great. I have good friends and a good family. Except for the fact of being at the wrong side of 20s and a couple of problems here and there, the future does not look that bad after all. Hope it stays that way or improves for the best.
Hope I hold on!!