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calmMy sporadic abstinence, as the word suggests is usually a deliberate attempt to secede from the virtual world. This is certainly one of my most prominent personality traits, both the self denial and disaffiliation from anything that might become a habit, a can’t-do-without. There’s no particular reason but simply an intrinsic need to throw a challenge at myself, every now and then.
I am also extremely judgemental of people who let themselves ‘over’ indulge, the slaves of habits really. You might want to tell me this is not only a habit, the act of breaking away, but also that I ‘over’ indulge in it. It might be, it could be, it must be for I am judgemental of myself the most severely, more than I am of anybody else. Anyway, I have been writing loads off late and mostly similar to thoughts as above. And, a lot about quirks too. You’ll know about ‘quirks’ when I post the story – Grey’s Anomaly.
For now I will share some memories from my favourite days on earth. I have a predilection for celebrating birthdays in grand and lavish fashion, prodigiously devoting time to THE days and THE person in question. As a return favour I guess, my birthdays have always been special.
A late august birthday needs a lot of preparation and even plan B-C-D...Zs. I remember spending most of my 2nd grade birthday sitting by a firmly shut window. It was raining cats and dogs that day and my birthday party was as populated as the movie theatre running ‘Apne*’and as dead as the dinosaurs fossils. I remember making paper boats with my kid sister. My parents allowed us to set off the boats despite the rain. There was this wide ‘Naala’ just around the bend, beneath a small bridge, which to be honest I was quite fond of. It must have been disgustingly squalid and filthy, the Naala, but I don’t remember that, only the strong currents that made several objects dance as they went with the flow. We were about to leave for the grand boring birthday dinner (dad’s idea of Plan-B) when the guests began dropping in, one by one. Most of them soaking wet, carrying soggy gifts. Some uncle even pulled out my birthday present from within his sweatshirt. I thought it was the best magic trick ever.
One birthday, I embarrassed my then best friend, out of affable intentions though. She and her inimical elder brother came without any visible signs of carrying any gifts. But I was sooooo happy that she’d come (where she lived was quite far away from my place and her parents weren’t sure they’d be able to drop her) I began this loud conversation, almost walking on air, how I appreciated that SHE came without any gifts because all that counted was her presence. While her brother called me names, she dragged me to a corner to inform me that her parents were going to bring the gift soon.
Another birthday, I chose to embarrass my dad and his boss. His boss dropped in at our place without any intimation on a day which was also my birthday. He ate with gusto and even danced. (yes, my birthdays are fun) When I thought I had waited enough and he had gotten really friendly by then, so I casually asked when I would get my present. He said he would bring me one whenever he visited us next. Disappointed, I dramatically abandoned him. I don’t know how that affected my dad but his boss bought me my first Doctor Barbie (Chachu bought me the second and dad the 3rd doctor Barbie. By the time I passed the 6th standard, (that year science had untangled itself into bio-phy-chem) there couldn’t be a greater act of effrontery than to buy me a doctor Barbie. If you still didn’t get it, I hated bio so I gave up on my “dream” of saving the dead and dying. Instead the idea of being a rockstar appeared more appealing).
Birthday celebrations in school were a different affair altogether. The sweets to be distributed were chosen after a general consensus had been passed on the matter by the good friends. If I let you have a say in chocolate selection, you should assume yourself to be important enough in my life. Also, birthday was the declare-your-official-best-friend-for-th
FYI, I never took down any notes on my birthdays. My friends wrote for me in my copies (and also in their’s if they could manage both). Also, I never took the ‘Happy Birthday to you’ attention too well. What are you s’pposed to do while everybody else is busy singing, clapping and winking at you? It’s an awefully long song and an evil one too. The song brings out carefully hidden emotions of embarrassment and shyness in me.
A premature end to the appallingly long prattle.
PS: A nagging thought doesn't seem to leave, I feel I might have used certain phrases not completely original. Please do let me know if you feel the same/figure em out. It's really uneasy, this feeling for a so-called writer! :(
pissed off
cold
mischievous
bored