Mid-March-Maleficence

It comes around every year. Like clockwork. The friendly reminder of the day you were born into the life you’re now going through – by fate’s or your own design. Every passing day, as you age, someone celebrates the beginning of another cycle. And yet, everyone I know reacts drastically differently towards their birthday.

What is supposed to be the point of the celebration anyway? Even if you’re the excited, partying kind, there’s always the stress of co-ordinating with your guests, making sure everything runs smoothly – of course I only address this to a certain strata of people, not the ones of have a dickwad of cash ready to be dropped at any moment, at any club. Why is it unacceptable to want to spend the day under covers, hiding away? Are we that obsessed with putting on a good face and force-party till the sun comes up?

For as long as I can remember, birthdays come in twos. One year has to be good and the other is supposed to make you question a lot of things. If turning 20 taught me anything, it’s that being dependant on any relationship – friends and family included – leaves you on crutches. Make yourself into the person you trust the most. Find within you what you look for everywhere else. Soon, you’ll find that you don’t need the company of people to make your day better, you’ll realise your own powers to do so. Find yourself.

Speaking of birthdays, as the big 2-1 (a major milestone from what I hear almost every day) ominously looms ahead, I can’t help but think if certain cosmic powers focus bad energy on you. The planetary alignment is just perfect to make you the target of bad luck, a focal point of energy. From an autorickshaw driving over my foot to being walked in on while taking a dump in the office, from forgetting things to bumping funny bones, the month of March feels like a nightmare.

As if accidental flashings aren’t enough, my birthday happens to fall on a national holiday and one of the most important Hindu festivals ever. I can’t say I understand or really care that much for Holi – I mean what’s to like about being caked and drenched with synthetic colours? I don’t feel clean for days to come, no matter how hard I scrub my skin raw. From family plans to excuses avoiding a road trip, Holi might just be the worst time to celebrate – there’s only so much beer and “Boom-Shankar” one can do!