I'm turning 26 in 30 minutes. So perhaps it's time to stop expecting the worst? Except that I can't. A few days ago, I planned to have lunch with all my girlfriends in Delhi on this day for my birthday. I kept telling everyone I know it'll be very difficult to get everyone together – someone has a job, someone has a baby, someone has a thing – they're all busy in their lives. My friends told me that, of course, they will be there. But I kept saying to myself that it won't happen.
So, this morning, I woke up to multiple disasters. There was no water in the house, which always sends me into a tizzy because of the Lajpat Nagar debacle, I had to shower with really cold water and was nursing a headache, and my friends kept cancelling one after another. In between calling the plumber many times, trying to book a cab when none was available and panicking in defunct ATMs, I thought I'd start crying. And that right there was my pre-birthday meltdown.
But in the end, of course, this lunch was probably my best birthday in years, and my birthday hasn't even really begun! My boss was being (suspiciously) extra nice to me and insisted I take Saturday off, so yesterday I went shopping with a friend, and spent even more money in the name of birthday shopping. And today was a lot of fun. Some of these girls I was spending my birthday with after many years, and just the image of them standing around me singing happy birthday is making me happy right now. They were all friends from different times of my life – school, my blog, journalism school – but of course everyone got along just fine, because my friends are the best. The school friend came back home with me for a bit, and now I'm alone, marathoning The Vampire Diaries and eating leftover blueberry cheesecake (shout out to Sakshi!).
Of course, a few hours ago I wanted to cry again because my parents are making me send my biodata and photos to at least four families on every holiday. Just writing that email makes me want to throw up. I really wish my father hadn't asked me to do it today, of all days, but I'm trying not to dwell on that. I feel like this birthday is a source of immense panic for them, because I'm 26, which is, well, older if not old, and, according to them, well past the age of getting engaged.
Birthdays after 20 are rarely fun and almost never meet anyone's expectations, but even though I have nothing planned for tomorrow, I think I feel okay. I have a tattoo now, after all.
Twenty-six. Shit.
So, this morning, I woke up to multiple disasters. There was no water in the house, which always sends me into a tizzy because of the Lajpat Nagar debacle, I had to shower with really cold water and was nursing a headache, and my friends kept cancelling one after another. In between calling the plumber many times, trying to book a cab when none was available and panicking in defunct ATMs, I thought I'd start crying. And that right there was my pre-birthday meltdown.
But in the end, of course, this lunch was probably my best birthday in years, and my birthday hasn't even really begun! My boss was being (suspiciously) extra nice to me and insisted I take Saturday off, so yesterday I went shopping with a friend, and spent even more money in the name of birthday shopping. And today was a lot of fun. Some of these girls I was spending my birthday with after many years, and just the image of them standing around me singing happy birthday is making me happy right now. They were all friends from different times of my life – school, my blog, journalism school – but of course everyone got along just fine, because my friends are the best. The school friend came back home with me for a bit, and now I'm alone, marathoning The Vampire Diaries and eating leftover blueberry cheesecake (shout out to Sakshi!).
Of course, a few hours ago I wanted to cry again because my parents are making me send my biodata and photos to at least four families on every holiday. Just writing that email makes me want to throw up. I really wish my father hadn't asked me to do it today, of all days, but I'm trying not to dwell on that. I feel like this birthday is a source of immense panic for them, because I'm 26, which is, well, older if not old, and, according to them, well past the age of getting engaged.
Birthdays after 20 are rarely fun and almost never meet anyone's expectations, but even though I have nothing planned for tomorrow, I think I feel okay. I have a tattoo now, after all.
Twenty-six. Shit.
