Friday, July 31, 2009

A Year Younger

Another year flashed by, before I could say Jack Robinson. (why Jack Robinson? why not John Abraham? :/ )

Last birthday was something I was looking forward to. THE THIRTIES. I was all mesmerised by it. Since the time I was 27, I've been looking forward to it in awe. I'd be excited to associate myself with my 30 something friends, who'd go "silly bachha" at me with a loving pat on my cheeks. By the time I was 29, I'd only refer to my age as "I'm almost 30". Such was my fascination with it, and the apparent adult status that comes with it, that I had gone extreme lengths to look my part. From choosing that perfect pair of mature looking glasses (the one that best resembled Amumma's, with a cat eye frame to satiate the style quotient, of course!), to parting my hair such that I could show off that grand li'l patch of grey hair which lobby along on only a specific area of my crowning glory. And for the visually challenged, adding in a good measure of verbal show off, by announcing that "I have more grey hair on my head than I can possibly count", and even dumping my most faithful pair of jeans for more mature looking trousers. All was fine till there. Till the glorious Thirty, that is.

Surprisingly, I'm not finding 31 very appealing. Well, I'm not even liking the sound of it, so much that I've been actually hanging on to my real age all for the past year, than rushing to the '1 more year older' status as I usually do. So much so that, this year I've made up my mind that I've done enough of growing old. Why not grow younger every year from now on! So all you sweet peopleses, please do join me as I celebrate my second 29th birthday in style. :) geee. (Also, it delights me that chuddy buddy Tina can't get one up on me as she does every year on my birthday. Her birthday comes 1 month ahead of mine, and I make the most of it by reminding her in the most gruesome and torturous way on how old she has become.. all the while she keeps seething, and waiting for another month, to get back at me. teehee.)

For starters, I've dumped those glasses for good, and got my hair cut short.. real short.. so short as they've never been since my primary school days. ('Boy cut' is how I described it to Mummy, who surprised me out of my wits by miraculously managing not to faint. Guess my horror charms have stopped working on her. :/ ) And yeah, the new hairstyle isn't too kind towards my grey hair either. They can safely go hiding in their secret hideout for now. RIP honeys.

The Birthday was kinda interesting.

Some nice people called up ever so thoughtfully.

Some nice people forgot (and cruel me is really excited to see them do their guilty pout when they'd remember it someday later :P).

Some nice people made me feel so blessed by just being around.

Some nice people were too busy.

Some nice people were thoughtful enough to call up eventhough it was almost too late in the day, because they just got back from work then.

Some nice people sent their wishes and thought I must be indebted to them for their thoughtfulness. 'See, I sent you a wish. Who else would do it for you, silly scum on the face of earth?'

Some nice people (well there can't be any like them, parents of course!) made sure they sent me that cute li'l e-card. Mummy's been doing that every year since she got a hang of the internet. A decade later, it still thrills me to bits when she does that!

Some nice people took the opportunity to do what they do best. Crib about their misery. They know just too well the art of hijacking your special day, and somehow making themselves the centre of attraction as always.

Some nice people overwhelmed me by being there for me all through the years and still not thinking twice before calling me up at 12 o' clock sharp to wish. How do you guys still manage to be so supersweet all the way?

Some nice people wanted to display their tact of making anyone feel like lesser mortals. 'What? no party? no gifts? no cake cutting? how sad, na? poor you.'

Some nice people called up to wish me best, even while they're going through utter misery and feeling the lowest they've ever felt in life. But still being kindness and love personified. I talked to them with moist eyes, while swallowing that li'l lump in my throat.

Some nice people wanted to remind me that I'm at an awkward age for a single woman.

Some nice people were just as they always were. Giving me the best piece of gyan, in the best way possible, that only they knew how to do gracefully.

Some nice people were too keen on asking whether I've landed on a job. (Yeah, the very same people who only wanted to know why I am single, till the time I was comfortably employed. Now all of a sudden, they are more worried about my employment status. How thoughtful!)

Some nice people re-assured me that there are some things, refreshingly stable in this ever changing world. Be it your Teens, your Twenties or your Thirties. Why, I know they'd always be there, even in my Sixties.

God bless you all, nice peoples. :)
Muahs!! :)