Thirty

"Everything I know I learned after I was thirty."

~ George Clemenceau

Another birthday, another number. The big thirty. The thrill of rolling ahead with a dash yet holding back with a whimper, like that slim, slippery place between sleep and waking up. An envelop of expectations. A medley of confusions. Of leaving the waning wheel ruts behind. Of looking forward to a new horizon, painting a new sun. Of stealing a few carefree breaths before life's alarms go crazy.

A new beginning.

A leaf and another birthday

I have turned, and how!

Vein by vein, pore by pore

You've coloured

and changed me so

I sure have bloomed

Oh my, just how!

There was once a time so green

Precious childhood, that waxy sheen

Then came along the Sun,

the Rain and a few strange signs

I tossed and turned

blushed and burned

And I never was the same again.

Drunk with light, neck-deep in life

Dressed in such shooting rainbows dear

Do I care for that gust of wind

That bullies me so?

The autumn woman celebrates another birthday today, and what better than a colour-kissed geranium leaf (that too from her own plant!) to mark the day.

Autumn, sure, is in the air. Welcome back trendy sweaters, scurrying squirrels, smiling chrysanthemums, fat pumpkins and apples galore.
And yes, may be a little wisdom too.

Of birthdays

I remember how I used to draw little glitter stars every year on the 2nd of September in my diary when I was young and happily dumb in the ways of the world. It's strange how fast, and with what vengeance the years creep ahead and very often it's with a jerk of strong emotions we realize that things have actually changed. I got my father's first email birthday wish today and needless to say, it felt 'capital'. I love the fact that in spite of the infinite miles we can communicate in more than one way. Although his mail has the natural eloquence that is expected of a retired professor of English, every time I read it I somehow stop at this one line --"Every year this day, I remember the night you were born and the subsequent birthdays we observed together." It has been more than four hours since I got his mail and I am still not able to shake off the nostalgia.

Birthday is the most awaited of all days in a child's calender and I was no different. I remember this day when Ma would prepare a grand feast for my friends in the evening and how after all the hullabaloo was over we would watch a movie that was rented especially for the occasion. A certain uncle who is a close family friend and also happens to be one of my father's oldest students would take my picture for what he called a 'memory photo'. This was an unfailing ritual for him every year and I reveled in the moment all decked up in my birthday finery. After all I was his beloved Sir's 'little girl'.

All this feels like a long lost era now. In the meanwhile this little girl grew up into a rebellious brat and now has a little world of her own. Where did those days go? Sure there are the ever faithful memories, and a trunkful of them I have, to revisit these happy days. But they don't help every time, they are not the real deal. Sometimes I wonder why do we have to grow up at all? Because then we grow out of certain moulds and fall into some less cherished ones. Here I am, a woman of 27, going on 28 arranging and rearranging the clutter of emotions inside my helpless head. Still, the one thought rules -- Why do we have to grow up?!