the birthday post - 37

37!

My favourite number. 

In school I liked the numbers 3 and 7. So 37 feels like a double bonanza. 

Seventeen years of writing my birthday post! I started when I was 21. 

I deserve an award. Give, give. 

I am becoming extremely self-congratulatory as I become older. 

I pat myself on the back for every little thing.  

I’m learning to provide for myself things that I would like from others. 

I had an epiphany recently when I realised that I could simply just enjoy life. 

I always thought I had to work hard and have something to show for my existence. You know, do something incredible, something that will reinforce my worth, something to display as my justification for taking up space on this planet. I felt this gnawing, urgent compulsion to create a grand piece of work…

But now I’ve concluded that the work is me. I’m the grand piece. 

I can treat myself like a work of art and keep sculpting, painting, cleaning, remodelling. 

What an idea sirji. Give me another award I say. 

After an abysmal dip a couple of years ago, my self-esteem has now rocketed back up, as is evident.

I’ve revised narratives of the past and changed them to better suit a higher level of self-confidence. 

Isn’t it amazing that we can look back on the past and change the bits we don’t like?

Gatekeepers of culture, religion and history have been doing that for years. 

I have frequently been told to live in the real world. 

I’ve realised that there is nothing called reality. 

Or maybe there is, but it’s outside of what our brains can construct. 

Reality is all fabricated, isn’t it? 

Your reality is not mine. And that’s why it’s incredible that we can actually relate to each other and connect with each other at all.

Do you think there are a finite number of feelings which keep getting recycled? If we curated every feeling that has been ever been felt, will there be only those to pick from going forward? Or are there new ones being constantly added to an endless catalogue?

I took a break for five months this year. 

I have nothing to show for it except (what I hope is) a new and improved version of me. 

But then again, that goes back to the narrative that time must be used usefully, productively. 

If I didn’t use that time to write a book or change the world, surely I should have at least worked on myself. 

What pressure, I say, so much self-created pressure. 

During the break, I did whatever I felt like. 

And that was perhaps the best use of my time. 

Embracing spontaneity, that long-lost friend, was a reminder of an alternative, less stressful way to live.

I don’t feel 37 at all. 

I don’t know what it means to feel like a number.

I still feel like I’m in my twenties. 

But I don’t really feel like I’m in my twenties, if you know what I mean. 

I’ve amassed the wealth of so many more experiences, feelings, relationships, conversations.

Interesting things that I heard this year: 

From a taxi driver in India: 

“I came up on my own, nobody helped me. You know, I’ve realised that you need people to tell you to be fearless, to be courageous. You need someone who can backpush (sic).” 

A travel guide in India, who insisted we take a picture on the beach – I couldn’t tell if he was sarcastic or not: 

“Ghumne ka matlab kya hi hai? Photo le lijiye, apne digital friends ko dikhane ke liye.” 

A tour operator in Andamans while describing the tribal people on the islands, whom most people otherize: 

“Same, hamare jaise hain. Ditto.”  It warmed my heart. 

From a friend, as part of an impassioned speech: 

“Grow. GLOW! Let others feel your radiance. How long will you hide under the shelter of safety? You have the ability to create magic. Be a magician!” 

My dad, while he was watching a movie and eating ice-cream: 

“You should know how to enjoy life.”

​Being in the UK makes me feel calm and collected; being in India makes me feel like a wild child, happy, laughing, bubbling over with energy.

I gave up music at age 15 to focus on academics, it was my own decision. 

While speaking about my journey at a school recently, a 15-year-old asked me if I regretted giving up music when I was 15 (my unwise choice to trade it for focusing on academics).

Unexpectedly, I felt my eyes swell. “Yes,” I said. 

It felt good to say it out loud. 

You keep hearing people saying they have no regrets blah blah. But it’s okay to have regrets. It’s okay to dream of what-ifs. But only in little doses okay? 

If I could do it all over again, I would devote my life to music. 

Then again, I still can. 

I can be really defensive sometimes. 

When someone tries to categorise me, I am quick to resist.  

If someone calls me an airy-fairy dreamer, I want to pull out something they don’t expect: I want to say hey look, I’m actually a grounded, practical data analyst. 

And anyway, why can’t I be both, huh? 

Recently someone asked if I play tennis, I said, “No, but I swim.” 

It was unnecessary. 

I want to let go of the need to prove, to justify, to compensate.  

I want to be OK with the idea of letting people form whatever opinion they want to about me.

I need not have everyone know all of me. 

There’s no hurry to expose myself. 

It’s nice to let something brew. 

Slowly. 

A nice, strong potion.

I have many triggers. 

Sometimes when men in tech explain what they do at work, they look only at my techie husband. It makes me bristle. 

I used to get annoyed when people made assumptions about me. ​

But now I've started​ to find it amusing,​ and I grin to myself ​l​ike I've got a precious secret. They have no clue. Ha!

I’m incredibly lucky to receive the love of so many people who simply give without expecting anything in return. 

I used to feel slightly guilty, but now I accept it with gratitude. 

No time for guilt, no.

I’ve known love. And how! 

I’ve been lucky to have experienced being in love. 

The relationships I’ve had have had a profound impact on who I am. 

I’m lucky to have intimately known some extraordinarily kind, intelligent, weird and wonderful people. 

I’m lucky to have friends. 

As I grow older, I realise and acknowledge that friends choosing to stay in your life is a blessing. 

I’m indebted to those who choose to stay – including my family. 

I crave intimacy as much as I fear it.

I’ve changed so much.

 

I'm a great target for marketing campaigns and pretty packaging.  

I​nstead of salted crisps, if you say ​hand-cooked sea salt crisps made from gently roasted potatoes​ harvested in our small farm​ in a nice handwriting font, I’ll buy it.

​Product design excites me.

I am content. 

But I want more. 

More variety. More depth. 

Those two needs often conflict.

My heart aches for more: new experiences, new feelings. 

A deep connection with a place. 

I’ve always been a person of diverse interests. 

Sometimes I think I broaden my interests because depth can be daunting.

I’m running from the intensity of diving deep into something and finding it’s an endless world to explore. The thought of it is daunting enough to keep me from chasing it. 

I want to be braver going forward. 

I want the thrill of the unfamiliar.

I can be a cynic as much as an optimist.

I enjoy being cynical sometimes. It feels out of character. 

I love out-of-character experiences, because it makes me wonder if the outliers are actually normal. 

The problem with life is that it’s so short. 

By the time we figure out who we are, half our lives are over. And that’s if we’re lucky. 

Maybe that’s the joy of it. 

Maybe not knowing who we are and what we want is what keeps us alive. 

I hate when people associate age with some degree of having “figured it out”. 

Comments like, “Well he’s 35, he’d better have figured out what he wants from life by now” really really annoy me. 

What you want from life is at best a moving target; a something that keeps evolving and renewing itself.  

And that's not a bad thing. 

Things that are slightly out of reach make you stretch a bit more.

Stretching can be good. 

Weirdly, stretching makes relaxing easier. 

I can be damn good at something if I try.

But I want the magic without the hard work. 

I feel uplifted easily. 

Buoyancy is a feeling worth chasing.

I have the power to slow down time. 

Slowing down time... a phrase I used in a poem years ago. While waiting for sunrise after a sleepless night.

I remember it like it was yesterday.

Memory, how grateful I am for you.

​​I hope I never lose the ability to be amused.

I hope I never lose the ability to put into words and pictures how I feel. 

I hope I never lose the ability to feel. 

Here’s to another year of living and loving and being loved. 

Next year, my double bonanza 37,

all I can ask is for you 

to be kind.