Friday, August 05, 2005

Another birthday...

I just had another birthday a few days ago. Not a particularly good one with with all the flooding and us having to be stuck at home again... I've had all sorts of birthdays, as I'm sure have you. Some good ones with parties and hype and excitement. Last year, I was in Bombay, visiting, and it was a fantastic birthday, a really good one. So I guess things balance out. And somehow when I'm living in a new city, the first one is always a little uh-oh. Of course all my zillion friends and family called and messaged and all that but back in Delhi I would actually meet so many of them. The other problem I have is that birthdays tend to depress me a little. There's the burden of expectations and no, I don't particularly care about turning a year older and inching towards 30 -- though no one who knows me well will believe this since I've been going on and on about it -- it's just that on birthdays I feel like it's New Year's Eve. Anything new brings on reflection on the old. Doesn't it? But tell me, why is it that every birthday introspection accosts you like a nosey neighbour? Wanting to make polite conversation, expecting you to reply and generally making you uncomfortable because you'd rather not be there, rather not be having that conversation. Similarly, I feel confronted, with feelings and issues that I'd rather not deal with the rest of the year or rather not talk about. It just makes me look back, tally the scorecard and I can't treat it like any other day. My mind, though, grew out of that magical feeling, the 'it's my birthday yipee' feeling I think when I turned 21. I swear every birthday before that I would wake up early, with a gleeful smile, be hugged and kissed by mom and dad, surrounded by presents and feel like a fairy, but somehow somewhere, I think it was 21, it vanished, and it became any other day. From then on the more normal I try to keep the day, the more I try to go with the flow, the better it is. Because by virtue of it being your birthday and all the calls etc, it does end up becoming a little special anyway... but the depression bouts continue. Wonder when they'll go away...

7 Comments:

Blogger Yours Truly...Conman said...

Wow... The year's flown by so fast. Didn't realise.
Seems just like the other day when I got out of Tapas to make that 12 pm call...
Anyway...
belated... my friend.

05 August, 2005  
Blogger Yours Truly...Conman said...

12 am i meant.
Were u at Enigma again this time?

05 August, 2005  
Blogger Yours Truly...Conman said...

Oops... sorry again. read you were "stuck at home". Have a great year writer.

05 August, 2005  
Blogger writer-in-egg-style said...

Somehow, somewhere...

... if it vanished, you may have partially succumbed to "the end of imagination" (to borrow Arundhati Roy's long sigh of resignation, a sigh she sighed for so many).

The whole game is to make the depressing circumstance act as a stimulant to the imagination. That is what destiny driving is. Creative minds nourish their most daring dreams in the darkest hour.

06 August, 2005  
Anonymous ppm said...

creative minds nourish their most daring dreams in the darkest hour...
what a depressing thought...maybe it is just a really bad way of saying that 'when you have hit rock bottom, there is no where to go but, up'.

11 August, 2005  
Blogger writer-in-egg-style said...

No, heck -- kindly do not read that line as a depressive. It's like saying "the harder the hit, the higher the bounce". like a tennis ball

12 August, 2005  
Anonymous de wills' advocate said...

Arundhati may have sighed for lots of people in that instance, but since then she has fallen under the spell of several demons that are the creations of her own dark imaginings... her MNC fixation for example. Such a pity, seeing her err, given the nobility of her purpose.

A reader emotionally wedded to her writing may even be tempted to follow a 3-gentle-step marital routine (which has many michievously twisted ungentle interpretations):

1. admonish, if this fails,
2. distance, if this fails,
3. act (smash her self-made demons for her, if she won't).

But then, which kindly soul bears her such loyalty? Outlook editor?

30 August, 2005  

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