My Birthdays

Yesterday was my birthday. I turned twenty-seven. “Twenty-seven? Really?” paused my mind, “Are you sure?” Not very long ago my mother and sisters at home would often start a discussion about me. They would wonder whether I really grew up, and whether I could really take care of myself. “He’s just older on paper”, some would jokingly conclude, “Our kids need to be told and shown and reminded of everything. So does their great uncle!” I am sure that they would differ today. My life has changed a lot in the last three and a half years of studying abroad. Birthdays, too, have become a lot different. Today when I recollect the series of twenty seven birthdays I have had so far, I feel strange. There was a time when I used to feel upset that I had no stories to tell. Today I am amazed to see so many little stories born out of only twenty seven days of my life.

I am blessed to have a family that turned many of my birthdays into grand celebrations. Whether a get-together at home or travel, my family made sure that I never run out of fond memories to cherish. I was too young to remember anything from my first birthday. However, when I was a little older, one day I found an old invitation card behind a wooden bench at home. The invitation sounded like a nursery rhyme. It was worded as if I, a one-year old, was asking everyone to come join us. It felt special. The first time I distinctly remember cutting a birthday cake was when I turned five. In the middle of the cake I saw a candle shaped like a ‘5’. I was told to blow it out, and suddenly everyone in the room started clapping and singing. Amidst the noise, I was prompted to cut the cake and pose for pictures. I was overwhelmed. However, I felt at ease as the story repeated two years later, in front of another candle shaped like a ‘7’.  By this time decorations made of balloons and colored papers began to fascinate me.

From then on I always wanted get-togethers whenever I stayed at home during birthdays. My sixteenth birthday was unique. There was nothing planned the day before, but I was adamant on inviting at least a few family members. To be fair, we ended up ringing almost everyone we were close to. Those who could show up the next day, did so. There was no special decoration, but honestly I did not need any, thanks to the quality time we enjoyed. On my nineteenth birthday there was a reunion of a few very good friends from high school. I am fortunate that we could be together at my place on a few more birthdays. By the time I entered my twenties, my nephews and nieces grew up. My birthday became their day of celebration. The day I turned twenty-five is a day I will never forget. Having arrived home from the other side of the world two days ago, I was still jet-lagged. In the early morning, my drowsy eyes lit up as I watched my children busy at work. They spent hours to make me a collage that said, ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY KUTTIMAMA’ (Happy Birthday Little Uncle). Waiting in the queue to surprise me further were their beautiful hand-made cards. I heard that they had been planning all of those for months. Inspired, I let the camera of my new smartphone speak for me as long as I could keep my eyes open.

  The first time I remember traveling to my aunt’s place at Dainhat in the Burdwan district of Bengal was when I turned three. It remained for years – and it still is – a special train journey through the greenery of rural Bengal. This repeated in the years I turned six and nine. From my aunt’s place we went to visit the ISKCON temple at Mayapur when I turned six, and the royal palaces, mosques, gardens and tombs of the Nawabs of Bengal at Murshidabad when I turned nine. On my eighth birthday my mother was recovering from typhoid, but I was too young and stubborn to accept that there would be no celebration. To calm me down, my father took me for a brief visit to the Bandel Church, even though his health was not good either. We could, however, make up for it during my twelfth birthday as we toured Rajgir, Deoghar and Chittaranjan. My most cherished memory from this trip is the visit to the ruins of the Nalanda University near Rajgir. The structure, the bricks, the stairs, the places that were ancient student halls and the surroundings of one of the oldest universities in the world made me speechless. In hindsight, this was perhaps what sowed in me the desire to be part of a university one day. The other beautiful memories that stay with me came from the visits to the Victoria Memorial in Kolkata, the Maithon Dam in Jharkhand and a tour to Tarapith, Massanjore and Santiniketan during my thirteenth, eighteenth and twenty-first birthdays respectively.

Some birthdays were not that pleasant, but they forced me to learn and grow as a person. One of my maternal uncles died of a train accident two days before my tenth birthday. We were all set to travel when the news came as a terrible shock. In a house with everyone mourning the untimely loss of one of the most talented artists in the family, I learnt on my own not to demand anything on my birthday. My fifteenth and seventeenth birthdays were close to my board exams. I had to take one mock test on each of those days: a three-hour Biology test on the former, and a three-hour Math test on the latter. Known to be a studious boy, I was afraid to speak my mind back then, but it took me quite a while to break the shackles of ‘why me’ and ‘why today’. Eventually it occurred to me that a bad exam would mean a bad memory. So I became determined to write my best exams on both the days.

Over the last few years I had to stay away from my family on quite a few birthdays. The large family gatherings gave way to only a few close friends; some of them could not be there even if they badly wanted to. The once all-day events started to wrap up quicker. The once never-ending chatter started to leave room for quiet reflections. I am slowly getting accustomed to it, but I must say that I needed this experience. This made me learn what I could never see otherwise. If I really want to celebrate, I can; it is just that I may need to be active. If I want someone to join me, it is up to me to ask them. If I really want to have delicious home-cooked food, I can; it is just that I might need to cook. If I really want to go somewhere, I can; it is just that I might need to plan and execute. It is always fantastic when family and friends can do things for me, but sometimes I need to do things for myself so I can enjoy birthdays. I am fully capable of the latter. It feels scary at first, but with time it becomes empowering.

One of my favorite TV commercials as a child was a Complan ad. A mother looks at her son’s abandoned toy cycle. She wonders how quickly he has grown up. To her great surprise he takes her out for a ride on his real bicycle. When I think of how I used to be during my birthdays in childhood and how I am now, I feel that I have come a long way. However, inside me lives a little child in the world of dreams, hopes and fantasies. He likes to be mischievous; he notices little things; he feels deeply; he gets excited at every opportunity; he is still very much alive. I treasure him. He makes me who I am. I want to keep him alive, no matter how old I get!