Age? Is it the increasing number of candles on your birthday cake with each passing year? As a child I used to enjoy being young and often thought that those aged thirty or forty were quite old. Every birthday would be celebrated in a small and quiet manner with family and friends. An early morning bath and visit to the temple to attend the special Puja that my parents conducted for my well being hailed the arrival of the next year in my life. Birthdays were an occasion to wear colour dresses to school, a respite from the starched and ironed uniform. As a kid it was a pleasure to take a box of pompously wrapped chocolates to school for teachers and friends, ensuring that the thicker the friendship, the more number of sweets that friend got. When a box of crayons was received as a gift from the Principal, it was the pinnacle of happiness. Teachers and friends too used to gift knick knacks which were treasured and proudly displayed to everybody in school and at home. Moving on to teens, the celebrations were more subdued. Upon graduating from school to college, age was a hush hush affair. Celebrations centred around only close friends apart from the family. After marriage it was a wish from my parents early in the morning because nobody else remembered my birthday until my children grew up, and the day was like any other. Hence all days were alike and age turned out to be just a number as the sheets of the calender were turned. Later on I remember getting a midnight call from a dear friend whose wife too shared my birthday which too came to an end like all good things, with the passage of time. Age is in one’s heart and you are as old as you think you are. As years went by it dwelt upon me that crossing thirty, forty or even fifty was not a great deal. I am proud to have crossed the half century mark and think I have been able to successfully manage to play the not so pleasant cards dealt out to me in life. Little pleasures have given me immense joy. Friends love me for what I am and it is the result of maturity I gained with age. The younger ones treat me with respect and love which I would again attribute to my age. With silver streaks in my hair, today I feel as young as ever, maybe as young as a school kid even though my children have outgrown their school days! Age is truly a magical number, only ensure that you own a heart full of love and remain healthy!
This is in response to the Prompt in today’s The Daily Post :
“Age is just a number,” says the well-worn adage. But is it a number you care about, or one you tend (or try) to ignore?