In all these years, I never woke up on a birthday to a bunch of flowers. This time I did. My neighbour from a floor below got me a lovely bunch of roses, leaving her umpteen visiting relatives back home, for a few minutes.
My husband squirms when she walks in at `unearthly hours', like at 6.30 am, for a bit of coriander or dry-leaf plates. But in a colony where we as a couple have been made to feel not so good, she and two other neighbours are like oxygen.
It was Ganesha festival and I had fallen sick, unable to make a dish or pray with ease. She promptly got us delicacies that she made with her expert rustic culinary skills. Of course, she fell sick, stressed out after the festival and we had to rush her to the doctor too. But sickness does not stop her from dolling out dishes with ease, something I lack.
On Friday too, she walked in, fresh after their pooja. Thank God for such neighbours.
Our visiting friend from Bangalore left on some work at Bandra and Dadar, followed by another neighbour. Of course calls kept me busy. The new mobile with an old number - calls, wishes, smses...Afternoon: Hubby dear gave a surprise. The chair I have yearned for at my workstation!
I can hope to write for many hours more in a day, without hurting my back or my health.
Have received many thoughtful gifts on the B-Day over the years – figurines of Lord Krishna, cards, show-pieces…but one of the best birthday gifts I received was a sketchbook by dad a couple of years back. Hope. Just out of 10th standard, my immediate goal was to get a seat in Chitra Kala Parishat and pursue painting. A futile attempt. A harsh reality…for every other student who came there kept telling dad and me – you need influence to get in here. I had to give up. And even made another bid after pre-university. Got an application from Chennai’s Kalakshetra. He said no.
After years of buying an easel, one of my first big buys in worklife, and not being able to work at painting, here he was, suggesting I actually go back to doing my dream!
Evening – it was cake-time with no party. All my life I found cutting cakes meaningless. Somehow birthday cakes symbolise quenching others' taste-buds with your knife, not to forget blowing off candles. Shouldn't we rather light lamps? In spite of this, since college, two of my friends would make it a point to bring one home faithfully, completely aware of my disinterest.
Over the years I took that obligation easy -- after all, it was friends and family who wanted to do something for me! I even cut two cakes in a single day once! One of those really big surprises was when I took the day off during my Indian Express stint in Bangalore.
My close friend came by to spend some time with me that afternoon. The doorbell rang. And lo! A bunch of office colleagues turned up with a cake at my door! Such incidents are rare in the big bad world of journalism! To have colleagues who stand by you is something really big. And such instances have left me overwhelmed to this day.
I had of course refused to cut the cake till my brother turned up. My mother insisted too. `Let her brother come. He's somewhere closeby,' she said. He did turn up from an errand. During the lunch that followed, that a colleague was shocked to find he was not my blood-brother! And also the ease with which he bonded with my mom.
Years have gone by. I cut a cake yesterday too. Not for my sake but for the kids from among the neighbour’s relatives who longed for it, for my neighbours who found pleasure in dabbing its cream over my face, for hubby dear who wanted a bit of celebration and a friend who found happiness.
My original plan was a quite day – just sitting by the window and writing with sips of coffee in between. The day was anything but that.
`In your happiness is mirrored mine,’ says me, with a desire to live begin life afresh.
No comments:
Post a Comment