Reminiscence of my past Quarter Century

Today on 22nd Jun 2009, which happens to be my birthday, I sit here in my cubicle scribbling down this piece of post. Over the past couple of years birthdays have not been a special occasion, as it used to be when I was a toddler. Now a days, its just another day, jab main mann maarkar office jaata hun and work till I drop. Today in the midst of colleagues, sitting in the boardroom, unable to receive calls from friends and relatives, I wonder how this particular day has changed over the past quarter century of my existence. I remember as a child my birthday used to be a special occasion with new clothes and shoes to wear, mom’s special delicacies to feed on and some extra generous savings from granny to make the piggy bank little heavier. Colored balloons decorating the hall, Mickey Mouse shaped cake, colorful candles and entire gang of bachcha party singing the happy birthday jingle. When I close my eyes, I recall my happiest days as a child. Those were the days of innocence, fun and frolic. 28 years ago on the same day, a baby boy was escorted into the world, crying loud enough for a deaf man to get a pair of earmuffs lest his eardrums go tattered. After all it’s the momma's job to tell me that unless I kept quiet gabbar aa jaayega. Months rolled up and I grew up into a pretty normal kid who thought thumb is gods candy so I hogged on it. Funny days were those. I used to toddle about the dining room and reach the kitchen to see momma cook, waiting anxiously for her to look and throw an endearing smile at me, and when she did, I would chuckle and clap my hands singing in my own baby language loudly, and eventually land on my bums. I kept repeating this act while she was in the kitchen. And at the end of it, when she was done with her chores, she would hug me and kisses followed and I sang even louder. Ahh the joys of the first-born kids. As the days passed by the young toddler turned into a very naughty lad who used to take pleasure in destructing any random object available within 2 feet height. As mom recalls I used to break the glass jars and bottles because I loved the sound of breaking glass. What a unique music lover was I. Once I even dropped my younger brother while mom was busy with her usual household chores. I picked him and bang… my brother was on the floor crying with a bump on his head while I was all clapping with chuckle. And what followed were spankings from momma. In our building a motley crew of about 10 of us ran around with gay abandon, unbothered by adult concerns. If we fell, which we did, bandages and our mothers’ love awaited our scraped knees back home. We were the noisiest lot; we would fight, cry, cold shoulder each other, but would eventually patch up. Unlike kids now, we didn’t brandish cellphones. But we left voice messages for each other the old-fashioned way. “Will you come out to play?” we’d shriek. It did not matter if one were on the ground floor and the friend, on the third, much to the chagrin of snoozing adults. As the years went by, play was abandoned for studies. The noise of children mellowed and the drone of television took over however naughtiness grew proportionately. I used to gasp seeing Sunny deol planting his "dhaai kilo ka haath" on the "chaar kilo ki tond" of bollywood villains and how He-Man and Spiderman used to send hooligans flying in air with their karate kicks. I remember once I kicked the door after I was back from school...Mom heard the loud bang...Two slaps later I was as calm as gurudutt silently scribbling my homework. PS: My mom’s a pro in slapping though, all thanks to yours truly. I have given her enough chances while growing to practice on me. Eventually years rolled by and the kid grew up to become apna desi no nothing Engineer slogging hard to make a living. Today after 28 years history repeated itself and yes it’s my birthday sans the balloons or cake or the happy birthday jingle. How I wish I could carry myself back to those fun-filled days when having fun was more important than feeding the ego, sunday special delicacies by mom were awaited more than the pizza delivery guy, when dad’s shoulders were the highest place in the world, the annual visits to the circus/zoos were eagerly awaited, when dadi/nani ki kahaniyon ke imaginary jaadugars were more scarier than our managers or deadlines. While I jotted these memories, I clutched my childhood close and left the chaotic present for a while only to realize that we cant get back what we have already passed.