Older Yes. Wiser?

And so ends another birthday celebration. Another year gone by and all I have to show for the whole of last year are a fat bunch of airline and railway tickets, lots of time spent with the family, a death, a wedding and an engagement, a handful of blog posts, a new hobby in paper quilling, several dozen (pretty good) photographs of butterflies and grasshoppers, a business venture in its early stages when it should have been up and about by now, several books ticked off the to-read list, half a dozen successful baking experiences and recipes, more time spent on Twitter, a greener and more colourful garden, 3 added kilos in all the wrong places, a couple of new scars, lots of new clothes, thousands of photographs yet to be sorted, an increased obsession with FabIndia, more confidence (and road rage) when it comes to driving, a lot of homesickness, a laptop in desperate need of formatting and some TLC, 27 newly planted trees, loads of leftover chocolate cake in the fridge, a stack of new presents and the Fellow who still likes and wants to be married to me.

Hmm. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad year after all. I wonder if I get wiser in the next.

Bombay and Birthdays

I don’t really need a reason to miss Bombay (as will be apparent to anyone who reads this space and/or hears me talk for extended periods of time) But sometimes I just happen to find myself in a situation, that absolutely makes me wish I could dissaparate (Harry Potter style), to the traffic jammed roads, super-crowded local trains, neighbourhood bhel and sandwich chappie and of course the shiny shopping malls.

I didn’t realise how much I relied on those gross symbols of consumerism and brand names till I didn’t have access to them anymore. Seriously. All I wanted to buy yesterday was a nice birthday gift for a friend’s one year old daughter. And did I find anything? No. Ok, so maybe I am a little neurotic when it comes to giving birthday gifts – it has to be perfect and special in at least one small way for the person. I can spend hours deciding what to buy, even though I hate shopping as a rule. So imagine my frustration, when I couldn’t find one remotely decent gift for a baby in this whole town (and just when I had started appreciating it a little).

And then I missed Bombay like crazy. I mean, if I was there, I would have had a tough time deciding what to give the baby from a wide range of ‘oh this is so cute’ stuff. And here, I had the option of ugly tee shirt vs ugly dress vs ugly toy. Shudder.

So finally I had to resort to the artsy-craftsy soul in me and make something at home – a challenge by itself given the limited resources available (this makes me miss Hobby Ideas and my favourite stationery shops in Bombay. Sniff).

Anyhoo, cutting a long story short, I gave the kiddo (well, actually her parents) a gorgeous photo album made of hand made paper (which I had picked up on a whim some months back somewhere) and painted a birthday greeting inside. Maybe someday, when the little one is older, and appreciates memories and birthdays more than she does today, she’ll want to sit with this album and go through the pictures of her first birthday. I know I would.

No Time To Sulk

(Day 104 of 112)

I believe that birthdays are incomplete without at least half a day of feeling deflated, after all the hoopla and cake is over. It’s just such a reality check na. I mean, for one whole day the phone rings only for you, and everything in the kitchen is made only for you. You are allowed to get away with anything with the use of 4 magic words – It’s my birthday today. And then, it’s all over. Suddenly you’re back to eating karela and baingan and not even allowed to make a fuss about it. And when you answer the phone, you’re asked why you’re playing telephone operator!

Anywhoo, all this is from last year. This time around, I haven’t had the time to wallow in post-birthday blues and I feel so incomplete. It’s like the universe decided to give me work (and the associated panic) as a birthday gift. Till yesterday I was relaxed and had the luxury of spreading my work over several days. Today, I’m rushing against time (and the risk of severe eye strain). And it just keeps increasing – the eye strain that is. Along with the panic bubble inside me. I mean, I didn’t even sulk about all the cake being over!! It doesn’t get busier than that people!

Ok. Procrastination time over. Have to head back. Sigh.

Then and Now

(Day 103 of 112)

It’s been a whole year since I wrote this.

I don’t want to sound clichéd, but time does fly. Really fast. Like it’s on a jet plane or something. With the passage of time, life changes too (another cliché, I know. But it’s my birthday and I’m allowed anything today). I know mine has taken a complete 360 degrees turn.

From being single, I’m now married. From being unsure and uncertain of the future, I’ve learned how to enjoy my present and make my own future. From being a Bombay-ite, I’m now a ‘Fauji-wife’. From being in my early-twenties, I’ve now crossed over to the other side of this young-enough-to-mention-age-group. Soon i shall be in that age group that no one wants to be in and where you need hair dye and early nights.

I think I shall listen to what the sister said a couple of years back – and continue celebrating the anniversary of my 24^th birthday for years to come.

PS: I’m a little drowsy after all the birthday cake. Will continue tomorrow and once the birthday cheer (or blues) subside, I’ll be back to my whiny, complaining self.

Ringing Up a Sale

(Day 83 of 112)

The MIL is a compulsive shopper. In this she is able assisted by the FIL who, if possible, is fonder of shopping than her. Of course, I would have had no problem if they restricted the shopping to themselves. I would have gladly carried all the bags and waited outside the trial rooms. Unfortunately, they do not. Instead they are very generous with their time, money and love and it leaves a very guilty and embarrassed me, standing in the middle of the shop, trying to dissuade Ma from buying the same tee shirt in three different colours! And to make it worse, I’m a need based shopper and go into any shop with a list of things to buy. So this kind of impulsive (compulsive) buying is way out of my neurotic zone of comfort.

And today my list making soul was tried and tested to its limit. For not only did we go on a spontaneous shopping trip, we did it at the jewellery store. You see, the MIL just can’t resist a Sale sign on the front door of a shop. And her favourite jewellery store had one of those hanging up.

So there we were, with the MIL all excited and happy, and me all nervous and uneasy. I mean who just goes into a jewellery store to randomly buy something? Ok I know several people who do that…but no one who qualifies as…well…normal?

Anyhoo. After half an hour of “No Ma, I don’t want anything” and “Ma I think the Fellow will want to have an opinion here”, we finally settled on a diamond ring. And then, sensing that I was getting increasingly uncomfortable about our impulsive purchase, Ma whispered to me “It’s an early birthday gift for you”.

The MIL sure knows how to make me feel all comfortable I tell you. Brilliant!

Of Colds and Creativity

(August 14th, Day 64 of 112)

I would have put this up last night but I was too busy sniffling, shivering, sneezing and singing.

The first three are the by-products of a full blown cold, the kind that makes me sneeze like I’m in some kind of sneeze- marathon and then makes me want to curse whoever thought of a nose to start with. It is also the kind that made my brother-in-law ask me (in the middle of a crowded Mall store and much tothe shock of several people standing nearby) whether I’d come from Pune. Evil I tell you. I was almost quarantined!

The singing was for the MIL on her birthday. Of course I sounded like an out-of-tune violin or a frog stuck in a well (whatever suits your taste). But who cares right? It’s the sentiments that count. Also I was armed with a gift so the terrible singing was well compensated.

This is what I gave the MIL for her birthday. Since I couldn’t figure out what to buy for her, I decided to fall back on some latent talent, most often suppressed under laziness and my laptop. This was the final result and happily for me, Ma loved it.

The Fellow of course takes full credit for the frame. His argument being that if he hadn’t married me, Ma would never have gotten the gift.

Every Year

(Day 17/18 of 112)

It’s my dad’s birthday today. And like every year, this year too we wondered what to get him. He isn’t the partying kind or we would have thrown him a huge surprise party. Nor is he the accessories type of person for whom you can pick up some trinket. Dad is also not part of that category of men who periodically change their wallets, and so he’s happiest with his 8 yr old wallet falling apart at the seams. A tie maybe? Nah. He already has more than he cares to own (or wear). A genuine leather briefcase? My dad prefers carrying his papers in his hand/plastic bag (much to the frustration of all us) because he doesn’t want to ruin all the leather bags he owns (its raining beta, the leather will spoil). A watch? He doesn’t wear one. An expensive, limited edition pen? Considering how careless he is with his pens, he seems fit for those 10 rupee ball points. A new phone? He just bought one. A laptop? There are already 3 at home (not counting the desktop).

So you can imagine how nuts we went trying to figure out something as simple (or complicated) as a birthday present. Finally after going through the above process of elimination, we reached a conclusion – it was either a large bowl full of papaya (something he can live on and eat every single day- and does) or it was birthday safety net we used every single year when we ran out of ideas.

Needless to say we decided on the safety net – Shirts. A white formal shirt and an office shirt. Maybe a party shirt, which for dad would be the white shirt in another colour. No confusion here. We knew the size, we knew the brand.

And like always, this year too when we gave dad his gift, he broke out into a delighted smile. A smile of pure pleasure and happiness. A smile that told us that this was the present he wanted.

These are what family traditions are made of. These things you do every year.

A Sense of Anticlimax

I like birthdays. And then i don't like birthdays.

I like the special feeling. The cake (s). The gifts. The attention. The cool excuse to do anything (eating the last piece of cake, hogging the tv, sleeping late, having a bath for an hour...it's my birthday na!)

I don't like that it all has to end after that day.

PS: it's my birthday for another 4 1/2 hours and i'm already sensing the anticlimax. Sigh.

Quarterly Review

Warning: Long Post

Seeing as I complete a quarter century of existence today, it seemed to be the right time for a review of all things accomplished (or not). And I know it isn’t the fashion to announce one’s real age in public, but an exception can be made for a jubilee year (and the fact that this will now be my age for several years to come). But I digress.

Looking back at the 25 years I’ve been walking the Earth makes me feel extremely accomplished. I mean I’ve learnt so much and done so many things already. Ok so it may pale in comparison to say Abhinav Bindra (who has about the same number of years on his plate) or Rafa Nadal (with lesser years) but that doesn’t take away the fact that in my mundane and routine life I too have managed to have my own small victories and moments of learning (read: downfalls).

So my 25 yrs can be divided at various points in the timeline. There is the school, college and beyond that. Or there is the pre-teenage, teenage and post-teenage. There could also be before speech and after speech. Whatever the categories, one common feature runs through all of them- peace and war! It’s surprising how growing up is often directly proportionate to the increase in the number of conflicts. I can’t figure out whether it is higher understanding or mere stubbornness.

25 yrs is a long time (too long married couples will tell you). It’s difficult to compile a list of things done and things learnt. I mean, how does one decide which learnings or activities are more important? I suppose it has to be age specific. So at age 3 going potty on my own would be worthy of celebration (more for my parents than for me actually) while at 15 yrs it was managing to remember rotten math theorems and at 21 yrs, getting a job. I’m sure being able to identify the colour blue/circle as a shape/the number 5 was as big an achievement for me as being able to identify India on the world map and probably as important as identifying right from wrong.

Of my 25 yrs the first five are a blur, the next ten maybe a shadow and the remaining ten disturbingly clear. The first five were probably the time of most concentrated learning where I went from being a lump that ate, slept and pooped to a miniature adult who threw tantrums not to go to school. The next ten were a drag spent between school and home listening to the teacher and my mother. I’m sure I learnt a lot in those years there by way of academics but the playground and girl’s bathroom had more to teach. It was there that I learnt that I’d rather be the only girl playing volleyball than stand in the shade cribbing about how tanned I will be playing in the sun or that I’d rather read a book than gossip about clothes.
The final ten years (so far) have been interesting to say the least. Again a lot time was spent in classroom and labs. Nights were spent finishing journals and assignments. Weekends were spent cursing all forms of education. Learning graph was steep, social graph was in the negative.

From making ‘My family’ drawings to making sleek PowerPoint presentations a lot has been achieved in these 25 years.
There was direct learning (not sleeping 3 days in a row does you no good and neither do 8 slices of pizza) and there was vicarious learning (if you have to have a boyfriend, make sure he knows how to do your assignments).
There were some things better learnt than others (how to doodle at the back of the classroom while seeming to pay attention to what the teacher was droning on about than learning multiplication tables). Some things were learnt more easily (the best way to bunk classes) and others with some difficulty (making a perfectly round roti). Some things were learnt in passing (younger sisters are not punching bags) and some were learnt out of necessity (younger sisters have to be bribed to keep their mouths shut). Some things were learnt and quickly forgotten (geometry and trigonometry) and some things were learnt and remembered (expanding 50 word answers to 200 words). Some things I taught myself (how to use Adobe Photoshop) and others were taught to me (how to wear makeup without looking like a royal fright).

So though 25 yrs may not seem a wise age to someone who is 50 (or even more) look how far I’ve come from being something that’s all Id to someone who has a clearly defined superego and ego.

Here’s to 25yrs yrs of family, friends and teachers, experiences and emotions, ideas and beliefs, skills and attitudes, likes and dislikes, successes and failures.

Here’s to 25 yrs of life. Cheers.

Of Magic Shows and Balloons

For the first time in some ten years I had to attend a 5 yr olds birthday party (not because I was never invited but because I didn’t know any tiny tots). My worry began with buying the gift. What do you buy for a 5 yr old boy who spends his playtime taking his shirt off and singing (and dancing to) dard-e-disco for the benefit of his friends? Anyway, after a lot of walking back and forth in the toy section of a big shop, I picked up a sensible gift which his mother will appreciate and he will ignore in favour of a noise creating apparatus (gifted to him by someone who wants to trouble his family).

So I got to the birthday venue (which I recognised because of the balloons and illegally loud music playing). The party was already on its way when I get there and the children were all entranced by a sight I saw last when I hadn’t reached a double digit age – a magician pulling handkerchiefs out of a black bag! Nothing had changed in some 15 odd years. The same tricks, the same apparatus (not the same magician though…I think…). So we had the birthday boy blowing on random pieces of paper and cloth which then turned into flowers or confetti, an empty bag from which appears a (very battered looking) mouse, a bag on fire and then a white dove (albeit slightly singed) emerged. And the biggest hit of the evening – the birthday boy was given a glass of water to drink. And then the magician begins to drain water back into the glass from his ears, his nose, his fingers and much to the delight (and giggling) of the children, from the front of his pants!

I couldn’t help smiling at the reaction of the children to these tricks. Never has a group of some 30 children behaved so well and been so quiet. It was almost endearing. I say almost because of the apparently deaf guy handling the music and more importantly the volume control.

The magician takes his final bow and it’s time to play games. I’d forgotten how easy it was to entertain children at a birthday party. All you need to do is divide them into girls and boys, make every game is a versus one and allow each team a couple of boos towards the other. You’re set. Even something as simple as racing got them jumping up and down. So there were the usual party games involving dancing, jumping and divulging adults around of things like bangles, one rupee-coins, shoes and even watches all in the name of the game!

During all this, the only thing that kept coming to my mind (the little I could hear myself think above the ridiculously jarring music) was how much you have to love children to do this as a career. I mean 30 adrenaline pumped children under the age of 10 is no joke.

Once the games were done, the highlight of the evening was presented – the cake. One huge Power Ranger shaped cake. After the usual you’re born in the zoo bit was sung, the noise level abated a little (and someone apparently shot the music volume control guy) as everyone was too busy stuffing their faces (and I say this in the politest way possible) with food and of course the cake!

Mid-way through this peace the children decided they’d been decent long enough and so, with a vengeance, attacked all the balloons in the hall. It was a pleasure watching the innovativeness and the unity amongst children when it comes to destructiveness! I added my two bits to the fun by pulling down the balloons that were too high for them to reach even after climbing on 2 chairs.

So between the magic show and the balloons I had some fun at least. Of course at the end of the party I couldn’t help but fondly remember birthday parties I had and attended as a child – simple and boring by today’s standards, but something everyone my generation will relate to - coloured streamers and mummy-blown balloons on the walls, passing the parcel and musical chairs, paper plates with one samosa, chutney sandwich, wafer and chocolate cake. And one Styrofoam glass of bright orange, sugar spiked Rasna. Ah.