When you're a year older, you start waking up a little tired, just a little weird and just that little bit confused. Birthdays are supposed to be happy right? That's what they sing! I agree with Sid though - "Birthdays mean you realize you're actually not immortal!"
People around me have grown up. They are doing stuff. Started working. Started painting. Casanova steadied up. One got married. Engaged. Had kids. Working. Contemplated studying. Started exercising. Began running. Went back to dancing. Learnt swimming. Doing something. I'm just busy trying to quit going crazy.
Ever since I left Goa almost two months ago for training camps, I've been going crazy. At times polite, at times well mannered, strict, loyal, quiet, well dressed, no slang, "rashtriya" bhasha, "decent", meticulous, mathematical, awake, alert, far thinking, conservative, demure, explaining, understanding, sympathetic, observant, eat fruits, be fit, quit smoking, drink juice, no egg yolks, enough cereal, the right kind of rice, the amount of water, vegetables, the crap called nicotine, the necessity for dependence, the wish for approval. some weird way to remain immortal? I was meeting hundreds of different kinds of people. Each one trying my patience. Understand them, gauge their moods, try bad-cop-good-cop, be polite, be harsh, coax, smile, withdraw, answer calls with patience, remember to reply to messages, stay connected, return calls, push email, cameras, video diaries, tweet, notify, nice girl, friendly girl, the dude, the babe, the responsible one, the older one, the female one, the smaller one, the unfit-er one, the crankier one, the apologetic one, talk like this, dress like this, walk like this, use this phone, look this way, dress that style, write right, be clones, slaves to perfection, slaves to affection, pander to whims, stick to conventions, refuse to question, continue to be dumb, indulge in cliques. Christian conversion, stoner ditz, conservation, recycling, politically correct, conspiracies, sexism, money, happiness.
The world of people is driving me crazy. What's happened to stuff like beach sunsets? Cranky five minutes? Comfort zones? Lazing around? Impulsive friends? Irreverent ones? Incorrigible guy? Beach bum? Psy girl? I hate how change has become so hard to keep track of. It's become hard to hear the silence. What about good ol' stuff like adivasi songs. Resistance. Stars. Crickets. Midnight smoke. The voice of the timid one. Family time. Pad of a paw behind you. Mad Momma. Long walks with PP & Papa. Getting randomly drunk. Being carried home. The chance sunset. Old music. Boom Shankar. Wet noses. Grumpy dogs. Butter garlic prawns.
The day I was turning a little more mortal, I'd done it all. All the old things that trip me up. Seems like change is constant. Stuff just happens a little different each time. Good times are immortal. The world keeps chasing its own tail, rushing to get somewhere, only you're back where you started. And mortality means you negotiate that tail-chasing the best you can. Usually you find a damp nose somewhere and all's good!