My birthday was in November. Yes, this post is extremely late.
When I was a child, I had the habit of counting the number of days to my birthday. I would literally start the day following my birthday and count the number of days till my next. I loved it. I received presents. Mom would cook lots of my favorite food. I would cut blow the candle and cut my cake as everyone started singing ‘Happy Birthday’.
As years went on, birthdays changed: it became the day of no consequence. I could literally sleep all day long and no one could say anything to me. I would not do any homework, would try to take a holiday so that I could avoid school. My excuse: it was my birthday.
On the opposite side of the spectrum is my dad. He would hardly celebrate his birthday. He would go to work and come back, always telling me that he can’t take a holiday because it was his birthday. I never understood that. He would say ‘Kya celebrate karna?’ ( What’s there to celebrate? ).
In the recent years, my birthdays changed. During my bachelor’s, my birthday would coincide with the hardest exam. My college mates would greet me quickly and go back to studying. I wanted to study just like them, my birthday wasn’t important enough.
Sometime during those years, I changed my Facebook’s privacy and permanently hid my birthday. I didn’t know why then, I know why now. I don’t want people who I have never spoken to in years, people who could hardly be called acquaintance message me on my birthday to wish me. I never liked Facebook’s insistent notifications reminding me of others’ birthdays. I always thought Facebook’s birthday calendar system was too robotic, devoid of any feelings or emotions.
I don’t remember what I did last year for my birthday. I was probably in bed because I was still sad over what had happened. This year, I went to work. I completed my hours, made a software release, not mentioning my birthday to my colleagues. I made the day as ordinary as possible.
I did that because it is an ordinary day. I was born 24 years ago on a November day was special. For me, it doesn’t make all the subsequent Novembers special anymore even though the young me thought otherwise.As I was walking home, I remembered my dad’s words: ‘Kya celebrate karna?’ ( Now what’s there to celebrate? ).
If I was a character in a show or book, I think I would call this change a character development.