And what of celebrations?

It happened again. I aged. I stepped into my mid-20s. But this year, it was quite different. While I have been putting up the big, mature girl trope for quite some time, to the extent that I pretend to be nonchalant about birthdays, I furtively longed for a celebration.

Every year, celebration meant different things to me. As I grew up, the definition of celebration refined and refined. Now, it has carved itself into something “normal” and “basic” I craved for. I wished for people I loved and kept so dearly to remember and wish me good things on this day (Yes, I admit my reluctance to call it the b day yet from all the nonchalance show I put up or the lack of show completely, on social media). And of course, I wanted to move my seat from my little office desk at home and do something else that doesn't involve me being a couch potato. That was all that defined my idea of celebration. About my the day- I did celebrate the day as I hoped to. But there were catches, indeed. Some of my friends did take my nonchalance too seriously and forgot the day in due course of life. (No complaints at all. It is a two-way street. I did admit to my nonchalance about birthdays, right? It is about everybody’s day.) And about point two, I simply had no idea what else to do other than couching and working or couching and watching a shit show on the television. I only realised this as my the day came close. In fact, I was quite afraid of having a routine day of work on that day. So I decided to take matters into my hands despite my hesitance to break my pretence show and look like a 6-year-old wanting cake and a new dress. I asked S if we could meet (which implied that I wanted him to do something about the day). While he said yes, he wanted me to take care of the difficult part (travel), to meet. Even though it meant my wish number two would be fulfilled, I did not want to become a stinking monster, soaked in sweat from the heat and the crowd of a TNSTC bus. Besides, it was my the day, and why would I be willing to do something I hate? And I was angry at S because he refused to come the extra mile on my the day. But he had practical reasons that were not amenable to being argued about. I sulked and grumbled about not being important enough for anybody to remember my the day or come the extra mile to celebrate. I did not expect such an outcome. But as with everything, I believe in change. More of all, I believe in happy endings. I woke up from whatever the morsel of sleep I could get, after a night of sulking and lamenting. I was as cranky as I could be that morning, but surprisingly woke up as the big, mature girl version of me. She decided to throw a celebration for the 6-year-old in me. She decided that her two wishes will be granted, even if it meant tolerating the crowds of a TNSTC bus and the post-kathiri veyil of 2025. And even more- declaring my the day to a few dear ones. (Okay, in all honesty, the declaration did not happen. Changes are incremental and I am sure, next year or a few years later, I will be able to declare my the day). But even without my declaration, a handful of loved ones (and surprisingly a few not-so-loved ones from the past too) wished me good things. On wish number two- the big girl took the 6-year-old safely in a bus (couldn’t escape the sweat and stink though) and made her meet S. She did get her cake and new dresses (lots of them, actually) and some more gifts and flowers. Her wishes were granted by herself (with a little support from S). And that was the story of how I celebrated my the day. Simple. Basic. Yet, so special. It marked my importance and love towards myself. Nobody, but I went the extra mile to celebrate my the day. Although I did not declare the day to anyone else, I declared and demanded a celebration. With that, I knew I had grown up a little. And maybe, that’s what growing up is- learning to make space for the inner child, even when no one else remembers. Especially then. My 6-year-old would look up to me for speaking up. It marked my eligibility to be in mid 20s- a little more of myself, but unapologetically. In that moment, I felt 26. And happy.