Turning 30

I had always treated age as a number (as long as the crow’s feet and the wrinkles did not show). But this was before I turned 30. The day I did turn the landmark figure of three-oh, I inadvertently started acting like Joey in the sitcom FRIENDS yelling “Why God me?” as if God had put a curse on me and turning older was a sin! Despite the preparation I was making to embrace my age gracefully, my birthday hardly turned out be a joyous or a memorable affair!

I had decided to stay at home that day as I have always shunned the greetings from complete strangers (even when I was younger) to spend that day only with the family. (In my 30 years, I have failed to find a reason why others fuss over your birthday and the plans to celebrate the B-day! ). So there I was in my night clothes slumped over the couch watching TV and having all my meals in front of the idiot box while maintaining my reticence with the ones who were doting on me for after all it was MY SPECIAL DAY.

I was praying that no one would remember my birthday and call to add to my misery (but I assure you that if they hadn’t called, I would have given them hell) but they did call (good for them). My “best friend” from school called to remind me yet again that I was older and still single. I reminded her that she was married and still unhappy.

As the day wore on, the plumber, who was to have come the previous day, chose “my special day” to fix our leaking roof. The blare from the TV coupled with the incessant chiseling and hammering were enough to trigger my fraught nerves and cause the flood gates to open. I asked (no actually I ordered) my dad to ask the plumber to come the next day but my dad was helpless as it is quite difficult to get these guys when you really need them. So when that was ruled out, I decided that my nerves needed peace and quite, so I stomped out of the house (changing out my night clothes before that) without telling my folks where I was going.

So I went to this big park near my place intending to soothe my nerves. But it wasn’t to be, for as soon as I sat down on a bench, my flood gates reopened and I began to cry shamelessly thinking of how ancient I am and how little I had accomplished and all that crap! Just then the damn phone rang and it was yet another “best friend” from college calling to wish. In between the sobs, I did manage to say a hurried “thanks for remembering” and rang off. I prayed that she was the last to call, but the phone buzzed again. This time it was my darling sis asking me my whereabouts (it so happened that my folks got worried when I left my place like that and they had called her to track me) where I was and what flavor of cake I prefer. The last thing I needed was a cake to rub it in, so continuing in the irate mood in which I left home, I told her that there will be blood if there was a cake (actually I was more polite. This expression was just for drama).

Later as the park filled up, my anger began to abate and I called my best friend (notice there are no quotes) and recounted everything that happened and we laughed about the foolishness and the inanity of my actions. All of a sudden I was back to normal and I felt terrible about how I behaved with my loved ones. I went home, patched up with my folks (thankfully our roof also was patched up by then) and I sent by dad to buy a cake.

As the night fell, I was glad that the most horrid day of my life was spent and prayed to God that the next year, there is less hysteria and lesser histrionics from my end. Till I turn 40, age is just a number J