Life and the Box of Crayons

For all the cumulonimbus moments life threw at me last week, it compensated with a silver linings playbook of realisations. Realisations that provided my aching body and soul with the comfort of a কোলবালিশ, tied my spirits to hot-air balloons and let it soar high up into the clouds. Realisations that made me giggle like a two-year old being chased across the room with a bucket placed over the head. Realisations that reaffirmed my belief that just a few people are capable of changing one's world in the most beautiful way.

So last week, a severe bout of food poisoning happened that left me three kilograms less within the first two days and induced an urge to throw up and poop every few minutes. The husband being away in the hometown, the burden of taking care came upon myself and needless to say, as health fell down and broke his crown, mood came tumbling after. To top it all, parents started freaking out, considered impromptu visits, sandwiched the brother, informed everyone who would care to listen, and made themselves sick from worrying. After three days of no change in condition and all sorts of "I-have-lived-alone-for-five-years-and-able-to-take-care-of-myself" arguments falling into deaf ears, I was threatened with dire consequences to visit a doctor. Meanwhile, the two besties decided to intervene and convinced me to stay with one of them for a night or two. The international one virtually hovered around day in and out, while the physical one mothered relentlessly. In the end, what was intended to be a day stay turned into a week, soul-sisters turned into mothers, family turned into backbone and the heart melted into puddles of joy.

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This is not the first time that life has bestowed upon me selfless care and love from the people around. People I call my own, my home. People I can count on one hand. I have known my two "sisters of spirit" for a very long time, from a time when sharing a section and being able to sit on the same bench were perhaps the biggest achievements of life. The memories we three share are endless, and documenting them would put Chitragupta's book of records to shame. Yet, there are events the mind remembers distinctly and fills the heart with unfathomable affection. Events when we have loved fiercely and fought vehemently. When we have been judged by the other disturbingly accurately. When tears have rolled down from all three sets of eyes for one broken heart. When love for food, Jacques Kallis, Roger Federer and jewellery shopping at Esplanade/Gariahat have been shared in a heartbeat. When the sisterhood became life's guardian angel and biggest strength. 

Speaking of which, brings me to the one who has been mistakenly born to a different set of parents, in a completely different culture and country, yet somehow managed to become the soulmate. The one who is my analogy for the saying "what we seek is seeking us". As she continues to ping me on Whatsapp at this very moment, I smile at the infectious energy she brings into my life with her mere existence. In the last six years, our talks have evolved from formal acknowledgements to discussing human excreta and bathroom habits, which I believe is the final test of security and comfort in a relationship and proof enough that it will last forever :D. We have taken time to love each other, laugh at the idiosyncrasies, and share every embarrassing detail of life. She is a thousand times better version of myself, my role model at being organised and disciplined. She scolds me unabashedly for skipping a conference session or for not drinking enough water when sick, yet defends me with all her might as and when the situation demands. She is a roller-coaster, crazy and garrulous just like me. Yet she fits in my life like that one piece of missing puzzle. I could go on and on, but I refrain. Not because I have nothing more to write about her, but because she knows :)

These people are as much family as the one whom I call my anchor. The only person except myself who amuses me to no extent with his weirdnesses. The one who gives me thousand instances for wanting to kill him. The one who speaks sarcasm as the first language. The one who criticizes favourite actors knowing it bugs me to no extent. The one who makes the blood boil with snide remarks about almost everything and then tries stupid tricks to pacify. The one who makes "grudge" sounds in the dark just to scare. Yet, the one who gives thousand-and-one reasons for loving him. The one who stays up all night over phone while I wait alone at a deserted platform amidst drunkards thousands of miles away. The one who holds my head down as I throw up in the toilet after a crazy drinking night. The one who refuses to be vocal about emotions, yet whose voice echoes care and concern when there is no water supply in the flat. The one, who is like none other.

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Some people change one's world in the most beautiful way. People who I call my box of crayons and happily-ever-afters :)

Of new beginnings

Calling any city other than Calcutta "home" wasn't something I had planned on doing while growing up. And then, life happened and all the plans went for a toss. The warmth of home was found in a far-away German town amidst strangers who turned into soul sisters, love made its "P"ermanent residence in the heart, and some of life's biggest lessons were learnt.

This time too, moving to a city I am not particularly fond of wasn't part of the dream dreamt since long. True, the transportation system fascinates me and leaves me in awe. The chai makes me want to lick the cup over and over again when no one is watching. The academic job market looks straight in the evil eyes of unemployment and winks. But, the city isn't passionate enough when I look at it (yes, "it" and not "her"; I have my own sets of rules and reservations) through my Calcutta-esque glasses. It does not let the mind sit on a time machine and visit nostalgia-land. It does not provide the warmth of pithe-puli, nolen gurer sondesh and Gariahat. The pollution slowly awakens the dormant migraine. And, it makes me realise that "নদীর ওপার" is indeed a real place that I can visit not everyday. 

Yet, it gives me reasons to be happy. Dancing-on-air happy. It fills the heart with puddles of joy everytime I walk along the lush green sidewalk of the famed institute. It transforms me into a starry-eyed kid in a candy-store as I ogle the entry gate, the widespread graffiti and buildings that had once housed my dreams. It pulls a P. C. Sorcar act on all my tears and fears and replaces them with hopes, prayers and promises. And, it makes me realise that the best things in life always take the longest to happen.

The city is special, therefore. Not because of the infinite number of things it doesn't have or give. It is not Calcutta, it never will be. First love can happen only once right? But, it does give the comfort of home-made Espressos and long morning cuddles. It compensates for the heart-aches with the company of best friends and family. Most importantly, it makes the dream of doing what I love and sharing the address with the favourite roommate, a reality :-).

Unchained melodies

As John Denver continues to magically transform my thoughts into songs and make the heart ache a little more, I look outside and realise it is raining. I run to the balcony, barefoot, and try to smell the rain. There is none. I am disheartened for a tiny second. The strong wind tangles the hair and I try to brush it off the face. But then I strain the neck out and let the rain caress my face, feeling the corners of the lips twisting to a familiar shape. And then suddenly, I see them. 

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I see them, lost in conversation, walking along the lanes of their hometown as the Kalbaisakhi continues to make her presence felt. I see them going back and forth several times on the metro and chatting the hours away. I see them spending the entire evening looking for the perfect flower-bouquet for her parents' marriage anniversary. I see them sitting for hours in cafes and restaurants, eating cakes and pizza quattro formaggis and later complaining about how much they have eaten. I see him making "grudge" sounds in the dark to scare her and she almost waking the neighbours up with her screams. I see him calling her on a Saturday morning while she sleeps, asking her to open the front door as he stands outside, having travelled for hours just to give a surprise. I see him going down on one knee in the middle of the crowded food-court, taking her hand and slipping on her finger a ring. I see him waiting patiently for her tuition classes to end so they can walk back home together. I see an obese her, running across the Dhakuria bridge to catch a bus, and him waiting in front of the door and stopping the bus until she has reached. I see him pulling her leg constantly about NGOs, and later strangling her body with the arms in an attempt to pacify her. I see him baking his first cake and writing her a long testimonial in an attempt to compensate for fights. I see him running wild with excitement as she shows him around her second favorite city in the world. I see her reading out loud to him lines from the Bengali book that she reads, as he works on his laptop with the head on her torso.

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I see them lying in bed, watching "Bariwali" perhaps for the umpteenth time. I see them decorating the room with tiny Christmas lights and traditional Rajasthani dolls and their wedding pictures. I see them enjoying a quiet birthday dinner at a small Fondue restaurant atop the hills on a gloomy day and later taking a lazy walk by the lake. I see them talking sadly about things and people who continue to hurt. I see him preparing coffee each morning so to let her sleep a few extra minutes. I see him insisting on buying her that expensive silk scarf on their honeymoon because he likes it on her. I see them holding hands tightly while walking around the holy fire, as he puts the vermilion on the parting of her hair. I see him being on the phone with her the entire night as she waits for the night train at an empty railway station amidst drunkards. I see him behaving like a kid-in-the-candy-store when she gifts him the ONE ring and those tiny Minions. I see him calling her every couple of minutes to get updates on the tennis matches that Federer plays. I see her waiting at their familiar meeting point, while he secretly buys roses for her from the corner shop. I see them in the kitchen, cooking together and talking about his excessive use of garlic in anything and everything, with snippets of romance thrown in here and there. I see them video calling and taking snapshots, her blabbering away to glory and him checking himself out on the video the entire time. I see them trying to "Moonwalk" at Michael Jackson's songs in the middle of the night and giggling endlessly afterwards. I see him holding her head down as she throws up in the toilet after a crazy drinking night. I see him teaching her a "little Physics" and her staring blankly the entire time. I see her balancing on the training ropes at the jungle resort and him carefully standing at the back for support. I see the look on her face and the lumps in her throat as he gifts her the solitaire on the wedding night. 

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I see them on their good, bad and ugly moments, when they love fiercely and fight vehemently. I see her watching a movie alone in the theater without informing him, only to stay away and punish him for his mistakes. I see her leaving the house and going for a long walk after a fight, and him nervously asking what took her so long as she returns. I see him not talking for an entire night, and in the morning, leaving his sim card for a phone-less her to use during the day. I see the disappointments, the tears and arguments, all the flaws and complaints. And then I see them growing up side by side, choosing to stay together till the end of time. I see the support they give to each other, in good times and bad, realising that is how love should look like. I see the look on their faces as they meet at airports or railway stations after months, realising that is how happiness should look like. I see them having moments of small insignificant happinesses, realising that is what life should be all about. I smile, realising, that is how the feeling of "home" should feel like. Magic, in the mundane :)

Marriage Materials

You know that feeling when you meet an ex-lover/friend after ages and have no clue what to talk about? You put up a straight face, smile a Sheldon Cooper smile while mentally cursing yourself for not delaying the meeting, try to make small talks and embarrass yourself to no extent. But at the same time, you experience a tug at the heartstrings at the very sight of the person and cannot help but realise that love indeed is a strong emotion. 

Well, that's exactly how I feel as I start to write this blog post. It has been so long that Candyfloss and I have seen eye-to-eye, that the very thought of coming up with a proper excuse for having committed the sin makes me nauseous. Then again, the happiness at the sight of the familiar territory that accompanies the nausea, is unparalleled. So here I stand, guilty as charged, and try to seduce the angry heart of this ex-lover with.. words!

First things first, WHY have I not written all this while? I have since long been accused of the fourth deadly sin (as a matter of fact almost all of them, but let's not go down that road), which I believe is the only path for achieving Moksha and is my eternally-valid excuse for anything and everything. I would also conveniently put the blame on the social hullabaloo that happened a couple of months ago and say that I have been leading a sedentary lifestyle ever since. The finishing of the PhD and the complacency that followed, served as the cherry on top. No wonder, work took a back-seat and so did writing, while all efforts to shove and push the lazy mind out of hibernation were wrapped in woolen blankets and stacked in old almirahs to be used for the next year :/. On that note, I have often wondered why the guy would call me 'cat' so often. The amazingly accurate picture showed to me last Christmas explained why, and I couldn't help but gasp at the similarity! Yeah, love works in strange ways, mostly through such unabashed name-calling :D

Anyways, having talked about the Ph.D. in several of my previous blog posts, let me talk about the one thing that is rather new in my life: Being the Mrs. This reminds me of the several conversations had with strangers-who-called-themselves-my-relatives the last time I was in the hometown as a newly-wed. 

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Conversation 1:

Her (upon entering my room): "Dear lord, you do not look married at all! What's with the shorts and tops and empty hands and no vermilion? You look exactly the same as you did before you got married!" *the look of utter anguish and horror follows*

Me (in the most polite way possible, which I never thought I knew): "I dress up the way I feel most comfortable in. I do look faintly married when I am out at some social event. But at home, I prefer not being a clown".

Her: "No no. Aren't you a newly-wed? You should do it also at home! So have you legally changed your surname yet? You know, these days it is a fashion among modern women to keep their maiden name".

Me (on the verge of losing my cool but still with the plastic smile on the face): "I have decided not to change my name".

Her (almost choking): "What? What does your husband say to that? And your in-laws?"

Me: "Well, I didn't seek my husband's permission in the first place. But he is perfectly fine with my decision. He would never force me to do anything that I would not want. Also my in-laws". 

Her: "Good good. You must be very lucky to have landed such an amazing husband who seems to be fine with everything. Okay, I take your leave now"

Me: *mentally looking for a knife to back-stab the retreating lady*

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Conversation 2:

Her: "What's this? Why are you staying at your parents' place instead of your in-laws? You mustn't forget that this is no longer your home".

Me (blank expression): "The husband is not in the city, so I have decided to stay here most of the time. But I would ofcourse visit my in-laws".

Her (to my mom who is sitting next to me): "Why are you accepting this? Next time she is in town and she visits you, give her some sweets and ask her to go to her own house".

Me: *silently leaving the room and realising that ignorance, indeed, is a bliss at times*

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Conversation 3: 

Her: "Wow you are glowing after marriage! How does it feel to be married?"

Me: "I think I look exactly the same as I did before. And I feel no change whatsoever. I have known him for almost a decade now, so there are no surprises in store for me" ;)

Her: "Still, you should feel different. Every woman does, after marriage. You may know him from before, but now he is your husband and no longer a lover. There should be some difference. Also, what's with this তুই-তুই? Start saying তুমি now. তুই doesn't sound good to the ears!"

Me: *let me find a bar of chocolate*

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The reason for putting across excerpts from random conversations for everyone to see is not to demean the people involved, nor to establish the fact that I am above all social boundaries. Because I am not, else I wouldn't have gone through the social convention in the first place. But কুপমন্ডুকতা bothers me, and makes me sad. Yes, the society is changing and as hard as it must be, one should go with the flow instead of conveniently blaming it on "generation-gap". It bothers me that in Bengali marriages, mothers of the bride and groom are not allowed to watch the wedding rituals, lest the happiness of the bride and groom be ruined. It bothers me that women hold such low opinions about women who show the courage to break social shackles in whichever way, and instead criticize them for not joining the bandwagon of blind faith and beliefs. It bothers me when someone tells me that it is okay if I, having completed a Ph.D., do not work as long as my husband has a stable source of income. The ease and obviousness with which all these statements are made bother me to no extent. And then life goes on, we forgive and forget things that bother us or have bothered us in the past and go on living life the way we know best. 

But, on a lighter note, marriage in India is certainly not just a cumulonimbus playbook of age-old traditions and customs. It comes with its own silver-colored perks ;). How else would you socially enjoy the notion of friends-with-benefits? How else would you immerse all shame in the holy waters of the Ganges and hold hands or hug in front of the parents? How else would you explain the late-night chats that were once reasons for infinite fights in the household? And how else would you get to spend the rest of the life with the part-time lover and full-time friend and have this tiny conversation in the middle of watching a Bengali movie?

P: " "ভালবাসা আর কিছুই না, অভ্যাস মাত্র"~ এই ডায়ালগ টা শুনেই তোর্ কথা মনে হয়েছে! আমায় কত বলতিস ঝগড়ার সময়, মনে আছে?"

I: "হুম, আছে "

P: "এখনো তাই মনে হয়?"

I: :)

Et cetera

Valencia. A city that has one of the busiest seaports in Europe. A city that is a storehouse of energy. A city so warm that it compensates for living in a country with an almost-perennial winter. A city that basks in the happiness of being kissed by the Mediterranean everyday. A city that offers the best Paella and Tapas in the whole world. A city where people are loud, pleasantly unruly often, that reminds of home. A city that is Spanish in every way possible. A city that needs a separate blog-post of her own. And a city with brief and not-so-brief moments of solitude scattered around. 

When I first arrived here a couple of months ago for my research stay, I was reminded of a starry-eyed three-years-younger me who had just arrived in a new country where people spoke in a strange language. It reminded me of the first night that I had to sleep alone in a small apartment and the exponentially-increasing heartrate, of the infinite nights spent crying out of homesickness and loneliness, of the innumerable embarrassing incidents experienced on account of not understanding the language, of the niceness of people around, of all the rights and wrongs done along the way, and of growing up. While all these past experiences have definitely helped in coping with this all-over-again newness, it has also made me realise one very important aspect of life that I have most often overlooked. 

Learning to ski on the Alps or swim for the first time in the wavy Mediterranean waters are perfect definitions of testosterone-fueled activities as far as I am concerned. But I wonder if it would have been the same had there been no one to dismiss their own interests and patiently and persistently teach me the sports that day. Would it have been less scary that Friday night on a lonesome train station with drunken men around if there was no one to virtually give company the entire time? Would walking on the beach on a warm summer night with the wind ruffling the hair evoked the same emotions had there not been the perfect company to incessantly gossip with? Would ogling random French guys been as much fun if there wasn't anyone to share the naughtiness with? Or would it have been the same to try Tequila for the first time, without that look of concern displayed all across that particular onlooker's face? 

There is hardly anything more satisfying than getting a chance to experience a new country, new people, and new ways of life. Staying in a big apartment with guy roommates that's still considered a taboo back home, enjoying conversations and hard liquor without caring about people, time or place, roaming around in shorts and tees and not being judged or stared at, and experiencing freedom, can be a hell lot of fun. However, nothing in the world can match up to the feeling of feeling absolutely lost and lonely on the first day of arrival in a new city and then being taken on a night-tour of the city by the still-new roommate. It is then that one realizes how much incomplete "independence" is without a companion :)

Us!

I have read this particular comic strip atleast fifty times and each time I have said to myself "Oh Calvin, how accurate!" I find this somehow the best possible explanation of the hitherto unbeknownst four-lettered word. Love! It is, in fact, all that keeps us from strangling the subject(s) of our affections most of the times. Probably this is also the only reason that has kept me from strangling him all these years. Love.

People say, the best thing that can happen to someone is to have their full-time friend as their part-time lover. It makes life a lot easier and comfortable. However, what people never tell you is that it comes with its fair shares of "you-already-knew-this-about-me" and "you-used-to-be-so-much-better-when-we-were-friends" arguments during fights. Also, when that person happens to be someone like him, it takes a lot of hard work to remain sane!

For one, he is the weirdest person I have EVER come across. When we had just started our relationship, one of his male friends would accompany us often on our dates and it just irritated the hell out of me. I always thought that people craved to be alone with their sweethearts, atleast during the initial days of dating. But the guy had proved me wrong, and how! I always thought being slightly possessive about your girlfriend, saying mushy stuff once in a while, expressing emotions vocally, giving compliments, doing some occasional PDA are normal! But then he excelled at being super-oblivious to my demands and did what he was best at, be confidently weird!

We were great friends before we started dating, which is another story altogether and would be part of the autobiography years later. When friends would ask us how we met and got to know each other at our infamous maths tuition, I would talk incessantly for hours on end giving out all the juicy details, while he would sit there and pass some sarcastic remarks. In response, I would paste a "plastic" smile on the face, while mentally cursing him and regretting the moment I decided to take the plunge into the sea of criticism for the rest of my life. However, on other days, he would randomly say that how much he enjoys being in the hometown with family and friends, it feels incomplete without the daily evening meetings at 8B now that I wasn't there. On these  rare events I would feel the heart flutter, realising that I have fallen in love all over again :)

I remember when we used to talk at night over phone, he would just say "hmm" "achha" "sunchi toh" every once in a while. I always knew that he was not listening a word and was busy browsing the channels or doing something else; and when I would would ask him what I had said for the last ten minutes he would just make those terribly cute puppy sounds and apologize. And in case you are wondering, he would go back to the same "hmm"s a minute later :-|

I remember when we were dating in Calcutta, he would always keep me waiting for hours. I would arrive at our chosen place, albeit late, and call him only to know that he had just started from home/college. In the mean time, I would rehearse the choicest of words that I would say to him once he arrived. But then he would arrive with an angelic face and the most innocent smile and it would instantly melt my heart and made me forget the last half an hour of silent cursing.

Once, when we were living in different cities, I made up a story and told him that I was in love with someone else. I just wanted to see his reaction, expecting that he would probably create a lot of drama about it. However, he never asked me how I could do this to him, or what he would do now. He was just silent for awhile and then said to me "If that's what makes you happy, I'll be okay with it!" How I wanted to strangle him at that moment! I thought it didn't matter to him if I would be with someone else. I thought he didn't love me enough.

There are thousand other instances when I want to kill him; for speaking sarcasm as the first language, for being the biggest narcissist and thinking that I am an emotionally screwed up and immature person who is ALWAYS wrong, for taking me for granted, for not wanting to go out even when we are together and preferring to watch movies or talk instead, for not being ultra romantic on anniversaries or special days, for being so practical most of the time, for criticizing Aamir knowing that it bugs me to no extent, for never giving me a single compliment, for irritating me with those snide remarks about almost everything and then trying stupid tricks to pacify me, for never expressing emotions and for those innumerable instances when I am annoyed by his mere existence.

However, there are thousand-and-one reasons for loving him, reasons that are unknown to me. I always tell him, "there's not a single other piece like you in the whole world". But now I know that the best things in life , indeed, come in a single piece :)

So thank you PD for everything that you have done (and not done!), thank you for loving me with all my imperfections, thank you for being there when I am feeling low (and suicidal) and thank you for bringing an important person into my life whom I now consider a prized possession. Happy anniversary!

You!

A greyish rainy afternoon, a large cup of coffee, research journals lying around, twenty tabs opened on the office desktop and I sit here and write about YOU!

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Presents are always special. So is the anticipation. They become more special when they are sent from across the oceans. They become even more special when they constitute books by favorite authors. But when they come in bubble wraps, bliss! 

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Not many would know that I have been into painting since childhood. Going to the drawing class, every Sunday, from 5 o'clock -7 o'clock in the afternoon was something I used to look forward to the whole week. Of all the things that I loved to draw, portraits topped the list. As a kid, I always asked Baba to buy me those sketch-books where they had pencil sketches of very well-known historical figures and I used to spend hours and days drawing them. Over the years, sketching portraits of historical figures gave way to portraits of role models, cricketers, TV and movie actors. But in all these years, never did I make a portrait of myself. I always had this wish that someone would make a portrait of me which I would then frame and hang up on the wall. 

After so many years, finally my wish has come true. I now have a sketch of myself, and ecstatic is the word I am looking for to decribe how I feel right now!

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I love writing long posts/mails/letters/messages. I love reading them even more. I have been a voracious reader since childhood, reading everything I could lay my hands on, and enjoyed almost equally penning down my thoughts in diaries. While there is no substitute for books, sometimes I craved for a looong mail or a letter which I could read on days like these. However since the last two-three years, I haven't. The cravings were met even before they became a craving. Small happinesses, I say :)

And when such a long letter arrives with a hand-written one, or with a cricket headband, 'small happiness' turns an understatement. 

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In the entire post, I haven't mentioned you even once. That's weird given that I intended to write mushy things about you and that how lucky I am to have you. Maybe this is because I fail miserably at re-iterations and voicing emotions. However, I know that you would know that IT IS indeed about you and that I don't have to write mushy things to describe you! Just a single word is enough for that!

Soulmate :)

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P.S. I cannot thank you enough for the gifts, and the thoughts you have put in to make each of them special.  I loved them, each one of them. I feel blessed to have you and to be loved and cared by you. I do not know where life will take us, but if I had the power to control destiny, I would never ever let you go. However difficult the circumstances are. And sorry for being such a rude and selfish giant on the 23rd's, Jan and April 2013.

The rest, you know.

(This somehow reminded me of the last scene of 'Marley and Me'. When the dog dies and is being burried, everyone takes turn to say something or the other to the dog, as a final note of love and affection, to proclaim how much they loved the dog. The eldest kid, who the dog was closest to, just says "He knows". One of the best closing lines in a movie that I absolutely loved!!)

All I can say is that the moments spent with you are what I call a kaleidoscope :) :)

Jonmodin-e

Since ages, I had this habit of writing in my diary on my birthday- about people who wished me at midnight (funny, I used to rate their importance in my life and my importance in theirs depending on the time of the day they wished me!!), the gifts that I got, the lunch that ma cooked, the payesh :(, the extra chocolates that I could eat without thinking of getting fat(ter), and how exactly I felt on this particular day. I remember, in school, we always had summer vacations during this time and I always felt sad about 1) not being able to distribute candies to my classmates and 2) not being able to get more wishes, and consequently more gifts and chocolates from friends. But as I have grown up, I have realized how ridiculous those thoughts were, and how silly I must have been back then. Perhaps it is the wisdom that has come with age, that has made me realize that it is not about the number of wishes I get, rather the efforts that people put in to make the day special. So continuing with this tradition of writing on my birthday, today I write (albeit, digitally) how it feels on having stepped on the wrong side of twenty! 

Strangely, I don't feel old, even though I have recently noticed a few strands of grey/white hair on my head :(. When I was younger, I used to think 'twenty-five is old, atleast old enough to be the mother of two kids!' But definitely not anymore. On the contrary, I feel hot, matured, calm; and happy! It's hard to believe that this is already my second birthday away from home, family and friends, away from the city I love the most. However, the loneliness is much less this time and it's certainly because of the people I have around and the efforts they have put in to make me feel special on my special day. It feels nice to be the center of attention for just a day, to get a wish from the same person twice for two different time zones; to receive calls and texts at the stroke of midnight; to see best friend getting up at 6'o clock in the morning just to wish from across the oceans; to see the Facebook page overflowing with wishes and greetings; to see the excitement on the faces of colleagues and to realize how much I am being loved. Isn't it incredible when you see text messages from parents and old friends in the morning, when a close German friend drops in abruptly and presents a bouquet, and then shows that she has worn the Indian dress that you gave her just because it's your birthday, when friends whisper to each other during lunch breaks and plan wonderful surprises, when a colleague gives a big bag of gummy bears to binge on during boring office hours and then says 'I know you love them, so..', when a friend drops in with your favorite French wine, when an office-mate asks if he would make birthday-special coffee for the birthday girl, when a colleague gives a pack of beauty products, each less than 100ml, and says 'this is for the vacation in Nice and Barcelona, since you wouldn't be able to carry bigger cosmetics in the flights'; when another close friend brings flowers, icecreams and strawberries and then suggest to sit outside in the sun and chat for a while, when a friend installs skype for the first time to have a video chat, when office-mate compliments on the choice of dress and then flatters unnecessarily saying 'the sun is shining today after two weeks just because it's your birthday today', when a close acquaintance brings you a beautiful piece of junk jewellery and says 'you'll do full justice to it!', when another friend presents a hand-made container that she got from Kenya (and you realize the essence of globalization) :), when a friend wishes inspite of a huge fight two nights before and when PhD supervisor sends an awesome wish via skype and makes you feel so special. These small and big happinesses take away the pain of fighting with best friend, the frustrations of PhD, the loneliness and the pain of being so far away from home in a foreign country. 

I feel blessed to have friends like these; friends who care, friends who are excited just because I am excited, friends who are happy because I am and friends who love me inspite of misunderstandings and fights. In the end, I await a grand night with friends and colleagues and a blissful beginning of the twenty-sixth year of my life :)

P.S. (follow-up) The party was indeed a huge success, with so many people turning up to wish the birthday girl. And the icing on the birthday cake was a present from closest friends which definitely could be counted amongst the best birthday gifts ever received!