It happens only in movies, or so I convince myself, that on your birthday, while you are fast asleep in the morning, your wife plants a kiss on your cheek to wish you a happy birthday.
In the many years we have been husband and wife, my lady has never remembered my birthday, leave alone kissing me a happy birthday wish. Of course one can’t blame her, for she has hardly remembered even her own birthday any of these years and I had to often resort to many open ended questions like “what do you think is the importance of this day?”, to persuade her to come up with the answer.
Our son is only 4 months old and so I have to wait for 8 more months to see if she could rise above such mediocrity and remember perhaps the most important day of her life.
Having said all that, I never had to depend on anyone’s patronage to remember my birthday, possibly because I am quite self aware. So last Wednesday I became 36 years old, thus formally getting to the wrong side of 30s.
By that age you probably lose all interest in celebrating your birthday, because you figure out by then that age is just a number, that it doesn’t really indicate anything significant, but is only a poignant reminder that you are one year closer to death.
This is also the time when you finally realise it is better to stay alone or in the company of books than in the company of real people, because there is no hatred, no egoism and hence no disillusionment when you are with the former. You would rather look forward to spend some time with your own self, may be musing much about nothing, rather than squandering it on reckless adults of either gender.
But as age 36 is a bit too late to change old habits or reconsider personal convictions, you are trapped in your established dispositions, even when you are aware that they might lead you to a loss of emotional harmony. By that time you would have earned some reputation, which you would not be ready to sacrifice at the altar of any relationship.
When you are at the wrong side of 30s, your sartorial tastes would appear at odds with contemporary fashion. The younger may scorn at you for being obsolete, the older may throw their indignation at you for not doing enough to uphold tradition. By now you are your own man and the opinions of others will worry you less, any comment on your attire lesser.
And once you reach the wrong side of 30s, neither will young ladies hold their breath when you pass by, nor will this world mourn with the words "a good soul snuffed out too early" if you pass away.
As nothing can evoke respect in our country like grey hair, you would constantly be made aware of your age by cynics who would address you ‘Sir’, in every place you choose to venture. There are also the innocent - in office, in park, in public transport and in a crowd – who would pour in their affection, sometimes sympathy, at you by addressing you Chettan (Malayalam for “elder brother”).
One advantage of getting to the wrong side of 30s is that you can leave a party unnoticed, without doubtful eyes following you or questioning words chasing you down. On presenting yourself the following day to the same pack, not a single soul will ask you at what time you left the previous day or not a single tongue will rebuke you for leaving without informing.
Charles Dickens proclaimed, “Regrets are the natural property of grey hairs”. When you are at the wrong side of 30s, you may regret many opportunities you had allowed to slip away when you were young. You may also regret occasions when you should have been more firm and resolute in taking decisions. Regret is not however restricted to life events but includes people as well – those whom you regret for showering affection on and showing trust on and those whom you regret for failing to do so.
When you are at the wrong side of 30s, though quite late, you start appreciating what great men (and women) had said about the vagaries of life and people. You recognize that there is no truer maxim than “familiarity breeds contempt”; you understand that if you do hundred good things for someone and then unwittingly do one bad thing, he/she will forget all the good things you did, but will remember only the one bad thing you did to him/her. And now that you have the experience of many years of making friends, you also get acquainted with the basic fact that best friends can turn to be your worst enemies.
As Mark Twain once remarked, life could have been infinitely happier if we could only be born at the age of eighty and gradually approach eighteen. With the kind of knowledge one would accrue by reaching the wrong side of 30s, life might follow a different path if one gets a chance to go back, take rebirth and start re-living from his day of birth.
Insofar as my 36th birthday is concerned, let me thank everyone of you who wished me on that day and those who forgot to or chose not to wish me.
By the way, to set the record straight, my wife had risen from mediocrity and had made delicious payasam for me that evening.
She is a star.
