There was a time when we used to celebrate my birth week. My
friends still remember those times fondly.
As years went by, my birth weeks became birthdays. And with
each passing year, they became more sober.
Last year, for the first time in 10 years, I spent my
birthday without Mola. It felt miserable.
This year, history repeats itself. In the most cruel way
possible. She is not around, again and forever.
I did try to kick start some excitement. Jindal and I went
to Clarke Quay and had a couple of drinks.
The bars were open. And they were really, really buzzing. In
an earlier life, I’d last there till about 4 am.
Today we got back in 90 minutes.
Before we left, I opened up my box of Mola memories. It’s a
box with all the things that remind me of her. I looked at them for half an
hour, cried my heart out.
When I went out, I was wearing her Swatch watch. (it’s
unisex).
I cannot possibly get myself to celebrate my birthday
without her.
Today, as I turn 35, my birthday is not something I looked
forward to.
But I will look forward to her’s. And I will celebrate it
without holding back.
In all the years we were together, her birthday was always a
reason for her to spend time with me.
She’d make plans for the two of us to
spend time together first. If others fit in that plan, great, else she was more
than happy if it was just us.
That’s the birthday I want to celebrate.
So I won’t do anything significant today.
But I will, on the 26th of March.
I will celebrate Mola’s birthday. A birthday that seemed
more ours than just her’s.
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