Immature @ 28

Well, it that time of the year yet again. But I guess it is different this time. Gone are the days when I would be so excited for it, and the plans would be all set something like 3 weeks before the day. Friends and cousins would call and ask me if there is something special that I would want from them. And yes, when the phones were not so much in place, and we had to queue up awaiting our turns on the PP numbers (we all had these PP numbers, yeah!!) to talk, somewhat in code words, and try our best to put the message across the other side, effectively. And be nervous if the friend has understood that the ‘umm’ I said to something she asked was actually a ‘no’.

Yes, those were the days. Days when my friends would turn up on this day at my place early in the morning. Warm hugs, and cold weather, made for a deadly combination. The sweetnothings and the wonderful wishes. Those lovely cards with a prose or two, handwritten and self composed. The symbols signifying our friendship and the group union. The friendship quotes, something like ‘ Some like blue ship, some like red ship, I like One ship, that is friendship’.
Sometimes, fresh flowers were put inside the card, so that the flowers would fall on me when the card would be opened. And then the grand luncheons, @ home, sponsored by Maa...The Gajar ka Halwa, and the masala chai. The evening on the Mall, in the freezing cold, hands in hands, and the warm Gulabjamuns with Ice Cream...Yay!! Nostalgic....
And then, we grew up. Busy lives, hectic schedules, and deadlines to be met. Thank God for the incoming free mobile technology, a few bucks and wishes still flowed. The cards did stop, and so did the flowers. Once long PP conversations shrunk to short calls and forwarded SMSes. Friends gave way to boyfriends, and I don’t really remember the last Gulab Jamun Ice Cream combination I had with my friends. No more guys walked upto me on this day, with a pretext of initiating a conversation. The day was spent in pieces, half in office, and half with the guy I thought I’d get married to. It was still better.
With me and the rest of my friends married now, the calls have gotten fewer, all thanks to the Facebooks and the Twitters. One line messages generally mean that you are still thought of. The excitement has lost its hold to important issues – more so budgetary. The gifts have grown bigger in size and value, but the feelings are forced, or so I conceive. And, on this 8th, when I shall be turning 28, I happen to be lonely than ever – and perhaps, make way for more lonelier days to come. The most mature decision, to let go of forced relationships and friendships, to pause and think where my life’s taking me, and give a new start, to think and act, immaturely to others, but most mature to me.

I am turning immature @ 28, by taking the most mature decisions of my life. And that too, all alone and by myself.