This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 33; the thirty-third edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is 'Celebrations'
Celebrations! Now what does one celebrate? Either an achievement or a festival – which is, by and large, a celebration of the achievements of a mythological character.
I have always been keen on celebrating my achievements. The problem is that you cannot celebrate all by yourself. The moment I call upon someone else to join the celebrations he keeps raising nitpicking objections. I mean, come on, can you not just join the festivities without asking stupid questions about whether I had achieved anything worth celebrating? Hang it all, if I think it is worth celebrating the fact that I woke up a full five minutes before my normal time, what is your problem?
With such unjust people around me this entire idea of celebrating my achievements had to be put in cold storage. I never seemed able to satisfy them with my achievements – they pooh-pooh eating 24 idlis at one sitting; sneer at sleeping the clock round and wax sarcastic about going a month without brushing my teeth. Such a bunch of hard-to-please people I had never expected. What they seemed to consider achievements were so far beyond my capabilities that I could not even dream of them credibly. I mean think of me topping the JEE or coming first in the CBSE – even in my school? Does not your mind boggle? Mine boggled so much that I felt dizzy for days.
Festive celebrations, on the other hand, were wonderful. Diwali, in particular, holds a special place in my heart. After all, other than my school uniform, the only fresh pair of clothing I ever got was for Diwali. It normally came in very handy because the previous pair was just about to disintegrate into its component threads. My mother normally used to ask me whether my skin was made of razor blades (Come to think of it, do you think I missed out on a convincing achievement to celebrate?) It was probably the fact that fresh clothing swam into my ken so rarely that they seemed far more magnificent than they really were. I really cannot get that rush of pleasure when I walk out to buy yet another T-shirt!
The other wonderful thing about Diwali was that my mom usually had the clear intent of making four types of sweets and the customary mixture. The month before Diwali was filled with arguments about what those four would be. After the menu was frozen, my mom would swing into the act making all of them. I really do not know if kids of today can work up the same enthusiasm about arguing for what sweets to buy from the local sweet shop. Most probably they settle for ‘Celebrations’ from the chocolate platter and let it go at that!
Now that I am a bachelor and live alone, festivals get celebrated by me only when someone who is celebrating it calls me in as a guest – and, to be fair to my cousins, they call me in invariably. The one time I decided to make the savories and celebrate a festival – Pongal, as it turned out – I do not remember enjoying it much. It needs a special type of character to rejoice in mopping up the kitchen all day and scraping what looked like a charcoal mine off the bottom of the pressure cooker and I, as I have often said, am not that special a character.
Now if I choose to celebrate by myself I go for ‘Celebrations’ too! Thank God, the need to do so has not arisen often!