Tuesday, May 19, 2009


"He not busy being born is busy dying."
- Bob Dylan

I turned 23 on the 17th of this month. “No problemo, nothing changes in one day.”, the enlightened Joe would say. I am not referring here, of course, to the Supremely Enlightened One from F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Every one remembers how he wailed, and pretty loudly at that, when he turned 30 in “The One Where They All Turn Thirty.”

I am forced to write this post because of a peculiar feeling I experienced on that day. 23 sounds big. A day back, I was still 22 and it sounded really young. Turning 23 sounds like crossing a bridge to the other side, or the next phase. I can picture a responsible Homo sapiens who is no longer carefree. Furrowed eyebrows giving a serious, which could be mistaken for a menacing, look. Upright posture and an overall thoughtful, motivated and inspired look.

Now before someone starts suspecting the occurrence of any sort of revelation in my life, let me clarify a few things. Yes, I do not feel like 22 anymore. As a matter of fact, I never did. I still feel like a 16 year old. Lets make that 17, lest one begins to call me a “delicate bud” in Hindi. I still try to shout as loud as a child running by (Well, a lot of children happen to run by me on a consistent basis). I still get excited upon getting chocolates and toffees (or, was that when I was 13?). It is 13. Anyway, I still feel like the carefree me of 17. However, by the looks of some events that have transpired recently, I might reach the bridge earlier than I ever thought. Scary.

Now, down to the details. Had a quite uneventful birthday this time around. Though, that happens every year because of the education system’s conspiracy. My flatmates and friends nearby did not remember. One of them actually went to his cousin’s place a few hours before the clock struck 12. So, there was no cake or any putrefied fruits in liquid state. I missed my cake. Not in a “Oh my God (sniff)! How can you forget (slap)!!” sort of way. But a more ”Oh God! Where’s the delicious creamy all-chocolate cake I would like to eat by myself?” sort of way. They would not even have given me b’day bumps had Now-nerve (who remembered) not come to my place to wish. Got the thrashing of my life from 100-god Jerk. I shouted my lungs out, cried wolf. But he was so bent on wiping clean the seats of my jeans with his slippers, that he convinced them to take me out of the society premises lest some family complained. To ensure that this post passes censors’ knife, I’ll refrain from any further, thoroughly violent details. Enjoyed the rest of night smoking Hukka and playing guitar (the first string snapped) with Poo-le-jaa as the fourth entente.

Got a call from everyone who matters. Woke up late next day. Knee-tee and Sheep-raw gave me b’day presents, which was the highlight of the day for me. Felt really excited about and elated over the presents. The gifts are actually very useful and certainly one of my best : a toy car, Times Food Guide, P.G. Wodehouse omnibus and Pictionary. Had delicious boneless chicken Biryani in Meghna (a restaurant, in case anyone begins to reflect) with Now-nerve. Planned for a treat in TGIF. Mother Nature had other plans though. It rained cats and dogs and all animals alive/extinct. The plan got cancelled. Had dinner at home, watched an episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. and slept. By the way, I kept receiving b’day wishes till 11 in the night.

P.S. In case I ever “fall in love” with someone, I would never post a video with her pics and a mushy romantic song on youtube. Eeek. Just a reminder in case I read this post then.
P.S.P.S. At the end of the day, b’day ( more commonly, and in an irritating way, known as budday) is just another day. The date (except for the year part) just happens to coincide with the date of the day one is born. In spite of the futility of any sort of excitement over the date, I’d like to mention the following for their efforts to make a call or being there : Man-nee, Now-nerve, Tan-new, Puk-gaya, Knee-tee, Sheep-raw, Home, More Homes, Hen-jo, Pee-po, Half-tickit, Fish, Raw-hulk We-ass, Chaman, Troo, Put-tea, Hand-awe, Cena, Even More Homes, Gym Sheep-raw, Scew B, Delhip, 100-god Jerk, Poo-le-jaa, Quiet Ni. In case one wants to get one’s name included in the list above, transfer 1000 bucks to my a/c.