I turned 35 recently. Calls, messages, gifts, bouquets, hugs and dinner, every cue I had subtly (yet loudly) dropped had been picked up to satisfy my birthday greed and I completely enjoyed it. Oreo and Brownie might not have been very happy with the adult ways of birthday celebration with no return gifts, magician, balloons or games, but what do they know.
But after the birthday celebrations were over, the reality of
moving towards the late 30’s struck me. There are times when I
tend to forget how old I am, like reciting Twinkle Twinkle when rolling chapatti
(because that’s what I hear most often) or applying Barbie nail paint that
Brownie sometimes allows me to borrow. But when I am asked over and over again
with each birthday blessing call (disguised as an age reminder call), it is
difficult to ignore the big number.
Did I say ignore, how can I ignore when my offsprings have
a no-snooze-age-reminder setup loaded for me. They keep running back from park, yelling
“Sorry, how old are you, you said?” Oreo said, back from a
discussion with friends and all-ears-moms around.
“35”, I am yelling again.
“Its easy to remember you know Oreo. You are 3, I was 5
until recently and so Mom is 3 and 5 together. That is 35. Its easy”, said an
over excited Brownie.
Voila, what an impromptu trick. I should have appreciated it
but the number carried me away. Number that keeps ticking in my head like a
time bomb. 35! 35! 35! I keep reminding myself its just a number. But when I
try remembering what I did in those 35 years that just poofed away, all I see
is grey hair, extra kilos and stretch marks that stand as a testimony to
something wise I must have done.
So here I am taking a retrospective look at the past years,
in a typical Now and Then table format -
Who I was 20 years back – Ancient history
|
Now
|
I weighed 44kgs, loved the mirror and fitted clothes
|
I might have been fighting a losing battle with the
weighing scale but I am proud of all the stretch marks, the bulges, the flab,
the double chin and the ever-pregnant belly. I carry it with pride like an
injured soldier with his scars (whatever that means)
|
Never a topper in class or sports
|
Always a topper in class and every other field for that
matter, if you ask my kids
|
Love (as misled by movies) meant, being good friends,
romantic dinners, hand holding, surprise gifts and late night chats.
|
Now I love to swipe the credit card, call him for OTP and
later end up paying cash on delivery for the purchase husband made for himself. I also
ask him to save receipts of rare gifts he gets me so I can shamelessly
exchange them later.
|
My Mom is a little drama queen when she said, 4 kids are
too much, so I thought
|
Managing 2 small and 1 adult kid with tantrum throwing
maids, can give you 5 grey hair everyday.
|
Good day meant a bowl of ice-cream
|
Good day means good bowel and a novel
|
Best food is found in expensive restaurants
|
My Mom’s food is the best. My kids have been not so lucky
but then they have their Nani to look up to.
|
Oh how I wished for a TV or PC in the bedroom
|
A separate entertainment room with a lock where I can sit
with my invisibility cloak on.
|
30 minutes in the bathroom were never enough
|
|
Periods were the bad days of the month
|
They are good days when you actually have a reason to say
no to lot of things
|
Outsourcing meant, job opportunities
|
Now it means a way to get away with boring and repetitive
house chores
|
Shopping was for the ones with the luxury of money
|
Shopping is a necessity and meant for the ones with the
luxury of time.
|
Track pants meant night wear
|
They are all day comfort wear and easily available in all
shapes and sizes
|
All I ever wanted was 20,000 bank balance and small low
maintenance apartment
|
I wish I can have a big villa, where I can grow my own
weed and live happily ever after
|
Hated school
|
Love school as it means time away from kids and memories
of good old days
|
TV meant MTV
|
TV means answering Dora’s dumb questions
|
You might think I am materialistic, mean and rather 53 years
old. But the truth is that I now know, better than ever, what I want to be and
who I am. My mantra for life has changed. One short life, forgive, let go and
live it. Don't hold everything so tightly, let go!
Somethings in me haven’t changed at all, like I still keep
hinting everyone about the upcoming birthday and mandatory gifts. I am still
greedy and super excited about my birthday, even though husband would keep
trying to pull me back to reality and insists it is only meant for kids.
But there are times when I surprise myself like how I slow
down around my kids, how I end up calling my mom everyday and enjoy a hot cup
of tea with newspaper on Sundays. I
don’t feel like I am missing anything if I am not going out on the weekends. I never
knew how well I could yell until I became a mom. I can also act well now, when the
moment after yelling I turn around and beg my maid to do some more work at
barely audible pitch and folded hands.
There are lots of things that I still want to learn like salsa
dancing, surf boarding and patience. But not everything anymore. I expected too
much and gave back too little. I have finally understood that husband and I are
at opposite end of the lover’s spectrum and deeds speak louder than words or
gifts (views and opinions are my own, believe me).