Thank you. Don’t you think that’s the right thing to do?
The famous Bengali writer Bhaskar Das popularly known as Lu Lu, later on, out of respect more Lu’s were attached to the first Lu, (hence, at the time of his death at age 97, he was LuLuLuLuLuLuLuLu), pointed out in his famous book Bakwaas, that writers, should thank the reader, before the reader actually reads the writer’s work.
To thank a reader after he has done the reading, would be presumptuous, and smack of hubris. So, all future columns, letters to the editor, full-length measurements, most importantly WhatsApps from me, will first begin with the words “Thank” and “You”.
Today’s topic is a delicate one. It concerns a certain birth date. Namely, okay might as well spill the beans, me. That’s right as a per the government of India directive, my birthday must be celebrated on August 7. This is followed by Independence Day on August 15, and not to forget the small matter of Parsee New Year onAugust 16. Or, as my nephew puts it, two wet days interspersed with a dry one.
Now let’s focus on my birthday, which as you probably guessed has always been a social experiment. This year the question that we toyed with (by we, I mean, just me, and the mirror) was do you celebrate a birthday after a certain age?
Bhaskar Das was extremely clear, about this. You do, if you are a country. Or even an institution. Perhaps, also if you are an actress, who is denying the advancing years, by repeating the same age for seven consecutive years. Although after a point, the actress herself becomes an institution, and hence is in any case exempt from non-celebrations, as per the above mentioned, but highly confusing law in the first place.
In my case, the birthday celebration has evolved a lot from 45 years ago, where chutney sandwiches, and orange squash was served, and adult women, and occasionally adult men, pulled my cheeks. I can tell you that now, I hate chutney sandwiches. Diabetes has put an end to orange squash, and if any adult person pulls my cheek, I promise to sit on that person for the next 45 minutes. So, then I decided, I needed worse sense to prevail.
Therefore, I called the wife, who put things in perspective. The wife and I, always have a refreshing conversation. After which we both are convinced that whatever failure and shortcomings are out there, they are mine, and mine alone.
Her exact words were, and I quote, “Move, you are blocking the TV”, followed by “be quiet, I can’t hear anything”. Finally, “look you are turning 52! This means you are 52 years old, you live with your mother, and you don’t have a job, or any regular source of income”. I tried to argue that worked out fine for Prince Charles. Sadly, the wife had made up our minds, the birthday cannot and will not be celebrated, due to the above aforementioned reasons. I’m told, I shouldn’t mention it in any public forum whatsoever. This column being read by not too many is, I guess, okay.
Also, I’m going to go out on an ageing limb, and request readers to keep this information under wraps. Please don’t mention the birthday. Its nobody’s birthday. I mean its India’s birthday a week later. By that I don’t mean it was somebody’s birthday, a week before the 15th either. I tried pressing delete. However, if you write with a ball pen, well that doesn’t work. In the words of Lulululululululu, for keeping this between ourselves, let’s end like we started. “Thank you”.
P.S.: Presents and donations may be accepted by the person whose birthday it is not. For safety, please leave your contribution at office, care of…er… Bhaskar Das. And…er… “Thank You”.
The writer has dedicated his life to communism. Though only on weekends.
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