Today is my birthday. I remember birthdays
were always special for me. My parents used to celebrate them in style. I felt
great. Once I was older, as in college, the celebrations converted to treating
friends to a movie and pastries, or perhaps a lunch. But still I continued to
feel great.
Post marriage, I came to a painful
realisation that not all families are into celebrating birthdays of full-grown
adults. Well, my husband would get me flowers and we would go out for dinner.
And I would be happy.
With the birth of my two daughters, I
started celebrating their birthdays with much excitement and fanfare – after
all a birthday is a very special day I firmly believed.
Then, they became older and wanted to
celebrate in their own way – which was fine.
For my own birthday, I would call up my
friends and ask them to wish me. I would throw birthday lunches wherever I
would be working – for any number of people.
Subsequently, my birthdays started being
celebrated by our family friends – they realised in two decades what a birthday
freak I was. So, it continued to be great.
Then came my fiftieth birthday and I
thought that by now everyone would be aware of the importance of birthday
celebration in my life and fiftieth should be with a major bang.
Alas, nothing happened - just a small
family meal in a restaurant.
And suddenly, it dawned on me that why was
I so attached to my birthday, when I claimed to be detached otherwise? This was
providence teaching me that all days are the same. In fact, I recalled an Oshoite
friend of mine telling me this, many years ago: Why should birthday be special?
Every day is special!
So today, whether we celebrate my birthday or
not, I don’t really care… I celebrate my life in my heart, at all times, every
day…
