Not Everyday is a Birthday

Not everyday is a birthday. Others celebrate you on birthdays.

My childhood birthday celebrations were modest. Birthdays were one of those days of the year on which I had to visit a local temple to collect the payasam (kheer) delivered as the prasadam. The thought of visiting a temple makes me nervous because I was not familiar with the customs and rituals. My ignorance of the rituals once led me to do the pradakshinam (circumambulation) in a direction which I was not supposed to do. A local public figure shouted at me that it is an apradakshinam (anti-circumambulation). Fear of such embarrassing situations makes me nervous and reluctant to visit temples alone. But visting was compulsory on birthdays.
Then, there was the pirannal sadya (birthday feast) which was also special with opastharikkal, a ritual done with ghee and rice before meal. I don't know what it means but ghee mixed rice was always tasty. I eat my pirannal sadya prepared by mom, in the vazhayila (banana leaf) chopped and shaped by dad, in front of the nilavilakku (lamp). My brother sits on my right side for the meal. There is something about valathu bhaagathu irikkal (sitting on the right side). May it evolved as a custom to satisfy the jealousy of the non-birthday kids.
Then I wear the 'colour dress', the pirannal kodi (new dress for the birthday) to school, distribute a pack of chocolates to classmates, teachers and the principal. One good thing about birthdays is that you have certain privileges. The teachers don't scold you or hurt you for not doing homework or being naughty, your name gets announced on the stage during the morning assembly, you get to be in the principals office for a good cause, you get to hear good words from teachers.
Upon return from school, I distribute another pack of sweets for my neighbours.
Such were my childhood birthdays. There were celebrations. But there were no gifts, cakes, candles, bumps, songs or parties.

Then I grew up. During my third semester in college, I cut my first birthday cake inside a tourist bus on a trip to Kodaikkanal. The cake was a surprise. So were the gifts. I was gifted a hair band and a hair clip by the female crowd for my extra long hair.
Later in college, there weren't much of birthdays. I was too busy with politics, and birthdays seemed so bourgeois. Still it does.

Yesterday, I completed living quarter of a century on this planet. This too had its surprises. Again a cake. But with candles. And vodka. Yesterday, I blew out my first ever birthday candles. I made a wish, silently. As the clock struck midnight, I was flooded with greetings on my mobile. Not everyday is a birthday. You discover people still remember you. That you may not be the underling that you think to be. You become the centre of attraction for a change. You feel life is still worth living. Not everyday is a birthday. Certain flashes come to your mind. You remember payasams, parents and homework. Though the birthday reminds you of getting old, it emphasises that you are still alive.
They were playing Kuselan on TV. The climax when cinema actor delivers that touching speech about his childhood friend, the protagonist, coincided with the cake cutting. Catalysed by vodka, the feeling was beyond words.
I grieved. Not everyday is a birthday. Not every birthday has a surprise. Not every surprise gives you tears. And not every tear gives you happiness.

As I blew the candles out, I made a wish, a silent wish.
"Take away all I have. All that I earned and learned. It still keeps me hungry. Take away all the health and wealth. Its a burden. And give me a smile, a wholehearted one, for a minute of a day."