The 80's kid

That day of the year which God cleverly marked for us to do some introspection is our birthday. It’s the day when we open the log of all the things we gained and lost in the last 365 days. And sometimes that audit extends to the years lived so far. A recap of how everything around us, including ourselves, has evolved with time draws a colorful scrap book in our minds, and it spares no shades. That’s when we realize how far we have come in our lives.

The best part is flipping the old birthday albums. Yes, the erstwhile fat books that were used for safe keeping our candid snaps that could not be rectified or discarded, as at that time, even looking ugly would cost some bucks. Hence, unlike the Facebook albums of today, where everybody seems oh-so-perfect, we see photographs that were closer to reality. In them you might find yourself donning a glittery conical birthday hat and a guileless smile on your face. Other kids, who wore less glamorous caps, would ogle at the cake in front of you with minimum or no interest in the camera, as that was the age where getting clicked was more of a tradition. The only person looking at you (and not the cake) with a heart-warming smile would be your mother, who was probably half worried if all your friends have been assembled around the cake.  Fathers were usually found handling the cinematic part of the event. Although, they would play cameo in the photographs where they’d feed you the cake, or pick you up so that you can burst the big balloon that hung overhead, storing all the candies.  That balloon has its own stories by the way, as many a times I’ve been bruised while racing to collect the maximum candies that ash out of it.

Birthday games were limited, but a hell lot of fun. They ranged from the action-packed ‘Musical Chairs’, and the thrilling ‘Passing the Parcel’, to the rib tickling ‘London-Statue-Stop’ and the deceptive ‘Ankh Micholi’.  My birthday parties had one staple event, the QUIZ. Yes, I admit, I was a dork. And when I look back I guess I was the only one who used to be so excited about it, all set with my stack of questions and scoring ideas, that I seldom ignored the bored faces of my guests. If you are one of my friends from that era, I think you’ll agree. But that is in past my friend. So don’t be scared to visit me on my birthday. I will try my best to make up for that unintended torture.

Coming back to the birthday parties, amid the commotion, there was always a kid who was clueless about what hell had broken down on that house. He could be seen in one corner of the photographs in various innocuous stances, like sipping cola, watching the big balloon from a distance, being the first one dead in the musical chair wars. No matter how much your mother would try to get him included in the party, the kid would scurry into a safe corner. And smiling was just out of question. In most cases, this kid was actually your parents’ invitee, you know, some friend’s child or a younger cousin who’s coming there was neither his choice nor yours.

Those parties ended with a simple send off, where kids excitedly collected their return gifts that usually comprised of pencils, chocolates, crayons etc. Many of them would compare the color of pencils they got and then try negotiating with each other to get the one in their favorite shade.

Like any other kid, I really enjoyed the post-party scene, when the ulterior motive behind hosting the party was fulfilled, unwrapping of the birthday gifts. They were all so simple, lunch boxes, pencil boxes, water bottles, and if you got a board game, you hit a jackpot. It is interesting how the person who gifted you these things had absolutely no intention to make you happy, but to have some cake and grab all the goodies they can in your party. There were even times when you may have received the same gift back that you gave your friend on their birthday. It happened with me, twice. But then, it was all good in the end. It was a simple time, when you could ask for one extra chocolate saying ‘This one’s for my brother’. It was a simple time when the photographs portrayed an honest memory, not a potential display picture for your social media profile. It was a simple time called Childhood of the Eighty’s.

My birthday today was no less special though. I had wonderful friends and family to celebrate it with, an overwhelming number of calls to answer and deluge of Facebook wishes to like. Every single one made my day brighter. But along with it, I had a lot of memories to revisit, of things I achieved and lessons I learned, of people I miss and friends I earned. I thank God for not making me regret the choices I’ve made so far. Good or bad, they have made me what I am and have given me what I have. And for all of you who made this journey so amazing, I wish you never regret any of yours too.