Celebrating 85th Birthday

Yes, it’s my birthday today. Time flies. Time and tide waits for none. Luckily, only yesterday I received a WhatsApp message, “Old Age Now begins at 80”, after research at Dublin’s Trinity College, Institute of Neuroscience.  That makes me feel quite young - just been four years with the Old Age group. Not bad.

Birthday is also the occasion when, aside from friends and relatives, one gets a lot of greetings from most unexpected quarters. In fact, the latter group is more active.

Life Insurance Corporation sends, along with the greetings, their catchy slogan, Jeevan ke saath, Jeevan ke baat with a host of offers. Banks whose accounts you have closed long back, shoot out automated messages offering loans at attractive terms without a re-look at recovery-risk factors.

Now I have a clearer idea why at some billing counter the stores clerk asks for your mobile number and date of birth before accepting payment. Once I just bought a bun or bread from a bakery shop. He now sends me birthday greetings offering 50% discount on birthday cakes weighing 2 kg or more. 

In another instance, I had paid for garments that my wife had bought. Today I receive an offer of 70% discount on salwar, kameez, churidar, and dress materials.

The jewellery firms are smooth operators. They assert that gifts that are cherished the most are the ones given on birthdays. And they come up with offers ranging from less levy for ‘waste’ to reduced making charges, and the like.  

The best however is from Secretary of a retirees’ association. He greets me with choicest words on happiness and health along with a post-script on the sidelines: “It would seem you are yet to pay last two years’ subscriptions. If already paid, please ignore this note.” He knows as much as I do that I have not paid. But just trying to be courteous.

Then there’s my friend in Pune. He is a poet of a sort. He sends me unfailingly a ten-line poem prepared specially for me. Each time I manage to elicit the meaning with the help of a dictionary.

His son is good at drawing caricature. He draws and sends me one every time. Somehow, he focuses on that side of me which I detest to be projected. But then that is what caricature is meant to be.

On the brighter side, a very dear friend of mine telephoned me to say that ‘amidst the multiplicity of your engagements’ (his words, not mine), he and his wife would like to drop in for fifteen minutes to do pranams to us on the occasion. His hidden agenda was to give me a shirt or dhoti, or both. This time he came fully prepared. He had the cab driver wait downstairs, had me wear two shirts bought from two different shops, so that just in case any alteration was required he could take the same cab and get it either exchanged or altered. “Why two shirts?” I quipped. “Because I know that the rat that raided your home recently had made a good dinner out of the long blue silk kurta that I gave you earlier and which you had hung on the back of your door.” 

Shanthy, my sister-in law staying in Cedar rang me up this morning. “Athimbar, you just have two choices: would you like us to prepare dinner tonight at home or order from outside?” I reminded her: “Just bear in mind that I am hosting lunch to my ‘shirts’ friend and wife. Make it very light’. Alas, half of Punjab Grill menu was spread on the table. Her daughter Pooja had ordered a special cake to make it ceremonious. 

My brother-in-law rang up to greet and ask me to be ready mid next week. “Chitra and I will pick you and Akka for a four-day long drive in my new Innova Hybrid van to Sringeri, Kudremukh, Horanadu, Dharmastala…” Yes, there is no dearth of love and affection. 

Incidentally, this write-up should also fulfil my Oak friend’s greetings which inter alia wishing me health, long life and happiness, included, “also more blogs from you”.

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