The Smile Stash: Birthday Edition

November 7th was unequivocally the happiest day of my every year from 1987, at least until 1999. It very likely was true for the years before 1987 as well but I just don't remember those years. It is not an exaggeration when I say I used to spend 364 days every year deciding what dress and hairstyle to wear on November 7th. If anything came in the way of my enjoying November 7th to the fullest, I fought it with all my might. That's how irrationally important birthdays were to me.

One of my dear friends in college used to say that our birthday is a reminder that death is another year closer. I dismissed him as a half empty kind of a guy. I used to feel very sad for him. I mean, how can you not be over-the-moon excited for your birthday?!

Well, today is November 7th. I woke up to Gidu Sriram's Facebook photo/wishes just like most Portlanders do on their birthdays. I found my whatsapp lit up like a Christmas tree with messages from family and friends. It got me reminiscing my birthdays in India. It was all thanks to those handful of friends that remembered my birthday every year and ensured everyone else in class also joined in wishing me. In grad school, it was the roommates that took upon the task of making it special. Lately, it is all thanks to social media. Everyone knows everyone's birthdays! What a great place to be in the history of time, especially on your birthday! How nice it feels to know that friends and family across the globe are thinking of you on your birthday!

Back to reality, it wasn't my dress or hairstyle for the day that came to my mind at the realization of November 7th. Though I wasn't quite at the half empty level of my friend from college when it comes to birthdays, all I really wanted, as soon as I woke up, was to do laundry. I had abandoned and ignored laundry for over a couple of weeks and folding the freshly washed clothes before 6am felt incredibly therapeutic. I continued to indulge in that activity while watching a slap stick Telugu comedy on my phone until the rest of the family woke up and my day had to officially begin.

By the time I went downstairs, my mother had already made an elaborate breakfast, fixed my daughter's breakfast and packed her lunch. I drove my daughter to school and by the time I got back, India had already lost five wickets in their T20 series decider against NewZealand and things were looking ominous for them. I stayed optimistic through it all and was very thankful when the Indian team beat NewZealand against various odds. That win made me quite pleased. Something in the remotest corner of my brain joked with me that the Indian team was simply doing their bit to make November 7th the most spectacular day of my year. I brushed that voice aside and went back upstairs to my laundry.

The day proceeded uneventfully amidst some pretty awesome food at regular intervals prepared with supersized portion of love by my mom. It is only the second time since 1999 that my parents were with me on my birthday. My mom, with her ritual of putting oil on my hair before shower, and my dad, with his gifting me cash, quietly reminded me of how some things never change around birthdays.

At bed time, my 8-year old daughter reminded me of the 8-year old me from 1987 by asking if I was happy and if I had a good birthday. I gave her a tight hug and kissed her good night. "Yes, it was a great day, sweetie!". Her shiny eyes made me forget the 30 years that separates us, if only for just this one day.