When you are a kid, birthdays are special because you look forward to receiving gifts from your parents, siblings, and relatives. You invite your friends to celebrate the big day with you. And you don’t want any girls from your class to join in the fun because you only want your male buddies to celebrate the big day with you. And they all gather around you, waiting for the big moment when you finally cut the cake and give a piece to all your friends. 

Then you become a teenager and you don’t want to celebrate birthdays at home anymore. You want to invite the girl that you have a crush on but, of course, you don’t want your parents to know and you want to celebrate your birthday at a restaurant. You ask your Mom for money, then go to your Dad and get some more, and even ask your sisters if they have any savings, mostly from Dashain and Tihar, to help you to organize a grand party to impress the only and one girl of your dreams. But you still expect gifts from your parents and siblings.

After high school, birthdays are different. The girl you had the crush on has a new boyfriend. You go back to only hanging out with the guys. Instead of being happy with momos, fries and a bottle of coca cola, you now want chicken chilly and beer. And there will always be someone in the group who wants some vodka or whiskey. And the same guy will drink like he has been doing so since birth and will eventually get drunk, puke all over the floor at some restaurant and will have to be carried by four people. And when you finally get to his home, you ring the doorbell, drop the guy on the floor and vanish. Then a week later, you will meet the guy’s dad who will try to strangle you and tell the whole neighborhood that you and your friends have turned his son, a nice studious boy, into a drunk punk.

I celebrated my birthday last week. I didn’t want to cut any cakes this year for the first time in my life. But my wife insisted that I should not miss the special occasion. Most of my siblings and my Mom are abroad this year. But we did get a cake, enjoyed it and my wife then uploaded the picture of the cake in her Facebook page. Now, everyone who knows her finds out that it is my birthday and my relatives get mad at me because I didn’t plan any birthday celebrations with them. And I tell them that I did not invite anyone because I have turned vegetarian, quit drinking and plan to quit smoking soon. They all are shocked and thank me because even if they were invited, they would only get fries, vegetable momos and a bottle of coca cola. 

My wife tells me that instead of turning into a vegetarian, abstaining from alcohol, and cutting down on sugar, I should quit smoking first. I tell her that I’m cutting down my smoking quota to three nicotine sticks per day and will eventually stop. But she thinks that is not the right way and I should go cold turkey. I tell her that for me to go ‘cold turkey’, she should start pampering me, flattering me, and not whine about everything.  I remind her the time our family priest came home, looked over our ‘cheena’ and told my wife that I’m a person who will die for you if you tell me to jump off the cliff nicely. So, our family priest had advised my wife that if she wanted any job done from her husband, she should practice the fine art of flattery. 

So what are my plans as I now reached the second half of my life? My wife tells me that most of the people my age are already successful. I tell her that just making hundred thousand dollars in the US as a IT person or making a few lakhs working for some INGO in Nepal doesn’t mean that one is successful. But, of course, most of us think that if you are making tons of money then you are successful. And, in some ways, it might be true but how does one define success? I don’t know.

I tell my wife that some people get it right before they are 30 and some get it right after that. I still don’t know what I want to do with my life. When I was 16, I wanted to become another Bill Gates. I even took computer courses at the local private institution and eventually became an instructor myself a year later. I thought I would be that field all my life. 

When I was in college, I majored in computers but mixed it up with business but never really worked for any IT firm. Then came the Iraq war, and I wanted to be a peace activist and rant against Bush. Then I wanted to be like Warren Buffet and dabbled in stocks but wanted to be rich in a year and settle in the Bahamas but dot com stock crashed in the US and I was left with nothing. I came back home and I wanted to be a filmmaker. So I got myself a camera and shot a few shorts and a documentary and have now buried it all in my backyard because I was too embarrassed to show it to anyone who mattered. 

Today, I run my small business. It is profitable. I’m doing okay although my wife thinks I should aim higher but no, I don’t want to climb Everest. Dharahara was enough for me. I still feel fortunate that I did climb Dharahara a month before the earthquake. Well, I don’t know what holds for me as I enter the second half of my life. Hopefully I will finally make the feature film I have been wanting to make for almost a decade now, write a collection of short stories about growing up in Kathmandu in the 90s, save enough money to buy a small plot of land up in the hills somewhere and, in the meanwhile, enjoy life as it comes. 

The writer is a house husband who believes in changing, if not the world, the community he lives in one person at a time. Reach him at kalumaila99@gmail.com

 
• birthday blues