Growing Up- 5
I loved birthday parties as a kid. When you're young and have no idea that blossoming youth eventually makes way for wrinkles and arthirhitis, growing a year older seems like the best thing in the world. Older kids boss you around, and somehow, when you celebrate your birthday, you get one step closer to becoming one of the older kids.
I celebrated my birthday till I was eleven. I don't remember my first few birthdays because I was way too young. So, the first birthday I remember celebrating was probably my sixth or seventh. That year, for some reason, my birthday hadn't been pre-plannd. A week before my birthday, I wanted to invite all my friends in the neighborhood but there were no cards. So, I made my own cards. My father had got a print-out of ten thumbnail-sized Micky Mouse images and I cut out each one of them and stuck them on 5" by 5" pieces of ivory paper. With glitter pen, I wrote the time (some time in the evening), date (my DOB) and venue (my address). But I had forgotten one thing- my birthday party was a few days after my actual birthday because that was a Sunday, but I had still written the 16th January, my real birthday.
None of my friends liked the cards. They usually got one of those Archies or Hallmark cards with captions written by proffessionals and cute images. But their parents loved it. i was now the artist of my group.
Another birthday I remember was when nobody showed up. I had one 'friend' who didn't seem to like me much and never came to my birthday, btu I invited her anyways. As usual, she was a no-show. But the disappointing part was that none of my relatively closer friends came. Everyone had prior engagements. besides, I had stopped going out to play for a while now and I wasn't really on anybody's radar anymore. So, I celebrated my birthday that year with children who weren't really very good friends of mine. But I still thank God that someone showed up.
My most memorable birthday was nine. First, one of my friends' brothers leaned over the balcony railing and almost fell from my third floor apartment. Thankfully, my mother spotted him and brought him inside. Then, in a bizarre, unsupervised game of tug-o-war, somebody let go of the 'rope' and my neighbour fell down,. hit head hitting the nails poking out of the base of my living room sofa. He started bleeding and his parents had to be called to take him to the hospital. Even though it was supposed to be my birthday, everybody blamed me for the accident. These weren't my real friends. They were the kids who always dominated over me, and at that age, i had no problem with it. My mother was super embarassed at having an injured kid coming out of her house, but my injured friends' mother assured us this was his seventh head-bleeding accident. My mother oesn't have sons, so it was hard for her to even conceive the idea of one child having had his head banged up so many times.
I was always a supporter of the 'birthday parties at home' team. My friends, especially those who had working parents, had their birthdays in amusement parks and kids restaurants. It was practical I guess, since their parents couldn't give so much time to all the preparations that a birthday party demanded (invitations, decorations, food, cake, return gifts). Sometimes, I was jealous of how great these parties looked. But now I realize the amount of effort my parents and sister and housekeepers gave to celebrating my birthdays at home.
I don't remember exactly ehen it happened, but at some point, I stopped having these parties. So did the other kids, but for them, parties were now substituted by movies or a dinner/lunch/mall tour with friends. But that didn't happen for me. Maybe it was the fact that my friends slowly lessened in number till a point where I had none (Yes, that was the level of my social isolation. Looking back, I had some major issues back then.) but my best friends always wished me on the day and gave me gifts, something I did on their birthday too. We were going through some family problems at the time, and as a present from my family, I settled for nobody yell at me or lose their temper on my birthday.
I'm seventeen now and I already look at the institution of birthday celebrations cynically. If I'm under so much stress now, what will happen when a few years are added to my age? I see my childhood getting left behind. But if I let myself think clearly, I know I'm not even 'young' yet. So, I guess I still have a few good years on me. But no matter how much I try, I can't help but feel a passive sadness at being past the age of cake-cutting and invitations with Micky Mouse cut-outs and and birthday parties gone wrong.
I celebrated my birthday till I was eleven. I don't remember my first few birthdays because I was way too young. So, the first birthday I remember celebrating was probably my sixth or seventh. That year, for some reason, my birthday hadn't been pre-plannd. A week before my birthday, I wanted to invite all my friends in the neighborhood but there were no cards. So, I made my own cards. My father had got a print-out of ten thumbnail-sized Micky Mouse images and I cut out each one of them and stuck them on 5" by 5" pieces of ivory paper. With glitter pen, I wrote the time (some time in the evening), date (my DOB) and venue (my address). But I had forgotten one thing- my birthday party was a few days after my actual birthday because that was a Sunday, but I had still written the 16th January, my real birthday.
None of my friends liked the cards. They usually got one of those Archies or Hallmark cards with captions written by proffessionals and cute images. But their parents loved it. i was now the artist of my group.
Another birthday I remember was when nobody showed up. I had one 'friend' who didn't seem to like me much and never came to my birthday, btu I invited her anyways. As usual, she was a no-show. But the disappointing part was that none of my relatively closer friends came. Everyone had prior engagements. besides, I had stopped going out to play for a while now and I wasn't really on anybody's radar anymore. So, I celebrated my birthday that year with children who weren't really very good friends of mine. But I still thank God that someone showed up.
My most memorable birthday was nine. First, one of my friends' brothers leaned over the balcony railing and almost fell from my third floor apartment. Thankfully, my mother spotted him and brought him inside. Then, in a bizarre, unsupervised game of tug-o-war, somebody let go of the 'rope' and my neighbour fell down,. hit head hitting the nails poking out of the base of my living room sofa. He started bleeding and his parents had to be called to take him to the hospital. Even though it was supposed to be my birthday, everybody blamed me for the accident. These weren't my real friends. They were the kids who always dominated over me, and at that age, i had no problem with it. My mother was super embarassed at having an injured kid coming out of her house, but my injured friends' mother assured us this was his seventh head-bleeding accident. My mother oesn't have sons, so it was hard for her to even conceive the idea of one child having had his head banged up so many times.
I was always a supporter of the 'birthday parties at home' team. My friends, especially those who had working parents, had their birthdays in amusement parks and kids restaurants. It was practical I guess, since their parents couldn't give so much time to all the preparations that a birthday party demanded (invitations, decorations, food, cake, return gifts). Sometimes, I was jealous of how great these parties looked. But now I realize the amount of effort my parents and sister and housekeepers gave to celebrating my birthdays at home.
I don't remember exactly ehen it happened, but at some point, I stopped having these parties. So did the other kids, but for them, parties were now substituted by movies or a dinner/lunch/mall tour with friends. But that didn't happen for me. Maybe it was the fact that my friends slowly lessened in number till a point where I had none (Yes, that was the level of my social isolation. Looking back, I had some major issues back then.) but my best friends always wished me on the day and gave me gifts, something I did on their birthday too. We were going through some family problems at the time, and as a present from my family, I settled for nobody yell at me or lose their temper on my birthday.
I'm seventeen now and I already look at the institution of birthday celebrations cynically. If I'm under so much stress now, what will happen when a few years are added to my age? I see my childhood getting left behind. But if I let myself think clearly, I know I'm not even 'young' yet. So, I guess I still have a few good years on me. But no matter how much I try, I can't help but feel a passive sadness at being past the age of cake-cutting and invitations with Micky Mouse cut-outs and and birthday parties gone wrong.
Comments
Post a Comment