I hate birthdays like I hate holiday trips. A little more I think. Trips, birthdays, convocation, graduation days, haircuts come with such a blind expectation of happiness and life change that they are confused for promises. The more you expect a summer trip to Shimla to fix your family, the more unbearable it will be, I promise.
I have spent all my pre birthdays scared of the birthday, on which I am under the dissonant pressure of not expecting anything from the day on one hand and the secret wish of fairy godmother showing up with rainbows and sunshine on the other, that will make me cry at least once if not the whole day.
People often blame me of exaggerating events, feelings, sizes but let me point at the evidence. From the age of 15 till the age of 23 I was so scared of birthdays that it would put my emotions into a whirlpool, and affect my menstrual cycle. I have not spent a single birthday off PMS.
I even played tricks to trick my mind into calming itself in June. I started buying myself really odd birthday gifts. Odd is not kinky, goofy or stupid. Odd is just something you would not think very characteristic of yourself to buy. A Charles and Keith pair of stilettos. A dark red lipstick on my 20th birthday. But that’s not what this post is about. All of this is exactly what the post is not about. I am, for the very first time since I remember thinking, excited about a birthday. My birthday. I am going to turn 25 this year. And that feels so big. So so big.
I remember being 3, 7, 10, I remember being excited at turning 13 and 16. I remember watching ‘Kuch Kuch hota hai‘ in the theatre. The first time I almost bought heels. The day I wore lipstick for the first time and could not open my eyes for I blushed so much. While walking into school one day, I remember wondering why so many adults miss being in school, they even tell me to enjoy and make the most of it till it lasts, “do you think you will actually ever miss this?” I had answered me a definite no. And I remember going into college and thinking I do not miss school. School getting over was the best thing ever. I remember loving college and worrying that that is what I am going to miss. That the end of college is the end of all happiness. I tried to make the most of it, but then I surprisingly landed here- in all this glory of adulthood. I enjoy not taking money from my parents. I absolutely love the autonomy of it all. I love the days I crib about being broke because being broke is such an adult thing. Like having a bad day at the office is. But let’s maintain that the greatest thing about getting older is that you don’t lose all the other ages you’ve been.
I absolutely love complaining about my maid and the stupid refrigerator that is just a huge freezer. I love these problems so much more than the ones I used to have. Boys. And friend-zones and cheating on people and just the hormonal porridge that broths when you put a big group of teenagers in one building and ask them to compete with each other. I am so excited and so clueless about what can be done with such excitement, that I made a list of things, one of which I should gift myself this year even though I know I am gifting myself a tattoo. This list includes Hamley’s hand-puppet because it would make for such a nice ‘Prachi is not home, I am her alligator/porcupine/hippopotamus. Can I take a message?’ joke. And it has a house-robe because only women wear house-robes, mostly while picking newspapers or milk from the door. And other things like white dial, brown belt watch or a blog on Square-space.
This feels like a major life phase change. I imagine going to sleep on the 12th of June and wake up as a boy, or be 5’8’’ or rich when I wake up on the 13th. I am also prepared not to. When the first life phase change happened, I got a tattoo to remind myself that everything in life is malleable, that things change, and if you will them to they change for the better. For this phase, I have only ‘Be here now’. I cried when I thought my baby is growing up without me, that I do not spend enough time with dadi, and when I see happy couples have a feeling of foreboding, I try to be here now. Now in this comfort of a good roommate, cold grapes and domestic flights. I am convinced that if I keep doing that, life will figure itself out.
For the rest, I will buy floor lamps, nightdresses (not track pants and a discardable teeshirt, but a legit new cloth stitched and scented to be slept in), green bowls and women wallets under the excuse of birthdays.