Friday, September 14, 2012

Hitting 30…in a Glamorous Way


Today, I am 30 and I already feel on top of the world. The feeling is neither sadness nor unhappiness but sheer jubilant excitement, because I have lived the last 30 years of my life and in my own context “in the best possible way”.

At 30, I never dreamt of being rich (thank God). That saved me from the perils of desire and greed, instead I am so glad for the contentment of a middle-class survivor, struggling almost every day to hop into the next. At times, when the bank balance runs to the last three digits, I tend to worry a bit but when you can do nothing, you might as well smile and wane away the worry-lines.

At 30, I didn’t dream of riding a posh car, instead I am driving my Hubby’s eight-year old car, which badly needed a repaint on the roof and bonnet to save it from looking like as if it just escaped molestation at a flour-mill. But, I am so happy to be riding that tiny box of a necessity.

At 30, I didn’t expect to achieve a high career position, not at the cost of bartering my integrity and honesty. Today, I am just one of those happy go-getters but gladly have not lost my morals. It doesn’t even bother me when people think I am unreasonably stubborn, because I will not loosen myself for something that is not right in any sense.

At 30, I am happily married with tons of kids around me; my lovely nieces and nephew never made me miss not having a child of my own. But I do aspire to be a mother, to completely define myself as a woman, because a woman’s biggest specialty is her ability to maintain the continuity of life, and this is what makes us women the life-givers.

At 30, I am still learning to smile at the smallest happiness around me. I still wear a crazy pair of pyjamas with red, pink and purple strawberries on it. I eat finger chips and parle-G biscuits. I read books like the ‘Diary of a Whimpy Kid’ and watch animated and cartoon movies. I eat raw maggie when I am too lazy to cook. Because, I haven’t grown old in my heart. Growing old doesn’t scare me at all. It makes me celebrate each day that has passed, and helps me look forward to the one approaching. I am also haplessly hoping one day I and my Hubby will be of the same age, because when I met him five years ago, he was years older than me. Over the last five years, I kept adding a year with each Birthday while his calendar is the only constant thing I know. When we become of the same age, I will throw a big party in appreciation to his ability to fight the inevitable aging syndrome (to be taken with a pinch of humour J).

Today at 30, I am relaxed and content. I am not complaining of the things I don’t have, rather I am cherishing the fortunes I have. Life is getting better each day (thankfully, I was quick and wise to choose the right people/things from those who are otherwise), dreams are getting closer (because they are very few and achievable) and moments are growing happier. Hitting 30 comes to be a bigger achievement than I expected, and I am accepting the milestone with the biggest smile in my heart.

I can’t be more generous in this glamour. With this, I thank my ever-there family and wonderful friends for making my life so good. If I have lived well, each of you has marked your significance well. I tell you this: “I am loving it (the McDonald way)!”

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Digging the Past...for a Better Future

When I decided to stand and fight, I knew I had a big reason. So the reason was when I decided to keep a chronology of what happened. Now, that's me, purely me who has to abide by the dates and events. I am talking about what I did yesterday afternoon.

Months after the happenings in my life, I feel like a phoenix reborn out of the ashes of my old self - a better, wiser and stronger person. Without remembering and acknowledging my past, I won't know how to celebrate this feeling [thank you]. Hence, I got down to "Project Past". I dug through the calender, inboxes, mails and my mind (the biggest data-chip) and started ravishing through the rush of the events. Thank God, I wasn't dead for sometimes, everything is still afresh and warm in my thoughts.

Instead of the frustrations and remorse [I felt then], I felt a little kiddish at some of the hedious things, like the nasty mails archived in the inbox. I wasn't keen to read through again, so I copy-pasted the whole stuff in a very seemingly chronicle manner. Eight pages of events was not bad. I quite enjoyed revisiting some of the moments, especially those where I must have thought I were as good as being bad. Anyway. 

Admist, I remembered to call the lawyer who helped me through the phase. His surprise tone indicated it's not everyday that he receives a 'thank-you-note' from his clients. But I had to thank him for instilling the power of right in my fight. 

After I printed and mailed the chronicle to my mailing addresses, I got a sudden jubilant feeling. Perhaps, I was justifying the conviction my family and friends have in me, that "You are a strong woman." Honest, I like to be called that. I like to be judged as someone capable of standing for what's right. A shame if I were to thread on a path much to the dislike of my own existence. 

This attempt will refurnish my future. One day, my children will read this and realize how their parent/s fought through to stand tall against the injustice in life. One day, I will look back as I sit on the rocking chair and thank life for the lessons that made me rejoice every happiness, every tear. 

You can change anything, but the truth.