Jonmodin-e

Since ages, I had this habit of writing in my diary on my birthday- about people who wished me at midnight (funny, I used to rate their importance in my life and my importance in theirs depending on the time of the day they wished me!!), the gifts that I got, the lunch that ma cooked, the payesh :(, the extra chocolates that I could eat without thinking of getting fat(ter), and how exactly I felt on this particular day. I remember, in school, we always had summer vacations during this time and I always felt sad about 1) not being able to distribute candies to my classmates and 2) not being able to get more wishes, and consequently more gifts and chocolates from friends. But as I have grown up, I have realized how ridiculous those thoughts were, and how silly I must have been back then. Perhaps it is the wisdom that has come with age, that has made me realize that it is not about the number of wishes I get, rather the efforts that people put in to make the day special. So continuing with this tradition of writing on my birthday, today I write (albeit, digitally) how it feels on having stepped on the wrong side of twenty! 

Strangely, I don't feel old, even though I have recently noticed a few strands of grey/white hair on my head :(. When I was younger, I used to think 'twenty-five is old, atleast old enough to be the mother of two kids!' But definitely not anymore. On the contrary, I feel hot, matured, calm; and happy! It's hard to believe that this is already my second birthday away from home, family and friends, away from the city I love the most. However, the loneliness is much less this time and it's certainly because of the people I have around and the efforts they have put in to make me feel special on my special day. It feels nice to be the center of attention for just a day, to get a wish from the same person twice for two different time zones; to receive calls and texts at the stroke of midnight; to see best friend getting up at 6'o clock in the morning just to wish from across the oceans; to see the Facebook page overflowing with wishes and greetings; to see the excitement on the faces of colleagues and to realize how much I am being loved. Isn't it incredible when you see text messages from parents and old friends in the morning, when a close German friend drops in abruptly and presents a bouquet, and then shows that she has worn the Indian dress that you gave her just because it's your birthday, when friends whisper to each other during lunch breaks and plan wonderful surprises, when a colleague gives a big bag of gummy bears to binge on during boring office hours and then says 'I know you love them, so..', when a friend drops in with your favorite French wine, when an office-mate asks if he would make birthday-special coffee for the birthday girl, when a colleague gives a pack of beauty products, each less than 100ml, and says 'this is for the vacation in Nice and Barcelona, since you wouldn't be able to carry bigger cosmetics in the flights'; when another close friend brings flowers, icecreams and strawberries and then suggest to sit outside in the sun and chat for a while, when a friend installs skype for the first time to have a video chat, when office-mate compliments on the choice of dress and then flatters unnecessarily saying 'the sun is shining today after two weeks just because it's your birthday today', when a close acquaintance brings you a beautiful piece of junk jewellery and says 'you'll do full justice to it!', when another friend presents a hand-made container that she got from Kenya (and you realize the essence of globalization) :), when a friend wishes inspite of a huge fight two nights before and when PhD supervisor sends an awesome wish via skype and makes you feel so special. These small and big happinesses take away the pain of fighting with best friend, the frustrations of PhD, the loneliness and the pain of being so far away from home in a foreign country. 

I feel blessed to have friends like these; friends who care, friends who are excited just because I am excited, friends who are happy because I am and friends who love me inspite of misunderstandings and fights. In the end, I await a grand night with friends and colleagues and a blissful beginning of the twenty-sixth year of my life :)

P.S. (follow-up) The party was indeed a huge success, with so many people turning up to wish the birthday girl. And the icing on the birthday cake was a present from closest friends which definitely could be counted amongst the best birthday gifts ever received!

Binges!

So, today was one such day when I thought I would die from over-eating. Well it seems like I didn't, afterall, but I definitely would have. Rather should have, from the shame of overeating, if not from the overeating itself!

I am that kind of a person who takes the famous quote by George B. Shaw- "there is no sincerer love than the love of food"- quite seriously. In one word, I am a food-fanatic and proudly so. I live to eat and can die for it too. This undying love for food probably comes from 1) growing up in a typical 'Bengali' household, where the second most-often used remark by elders is "ishh ki roga hoye gechhis, nischoi thik mato khawa dawa korchis na" (how thin you have become, definitely not eating properly!), even when one is visibly over-weight (the first being "o maa kato baro hoye gechis!" which means "how much you have grown since the last time I saw you") 2) growing up in a family where 'eating' has always been considered synonymous to 'living' and 3) having a mother who, apart from being the most amazing cook, believes in investing deep thought and taking immense pains to feed us well (and how!). So while gorging on endless amounts of food, I have always shamelessly blamed my Bengali upbringing for those extra fat on the body. In Calcutta, the love extended mostly to those typical Bengali foods that 'straddled a million tastes, used a million ingredients and engulfed all the five senses'. The palate also often consisted of North-Indian dishes, Continental and Chinese delicacies and American fast-food. In Germany, however, it's the wide range of desserts that makes my heart skip a beat, literally. Perhaps this again goes back to the Bengali upbringing where a meal is never complete without a mishti and/or mishti doi, where rasogolla comes a close second to fish and where sweet-shops are super-crowded at all times. Although in Germany one can hardly find these (except in those Arabic or Indian stores), the country makes up for it by providing mouth-watering desserts and chocolates. But, for someone who fails to draw a line between indulgence and sinful over-indulgence, this often becomes a cause for concern! And that's exactly what this post had to do with!

So, cutting a long story short, today I wanted to give a break to my veggies-for-dinner routine and therefore decided to order some nice food from outside. Being the health-freak (the annoying health-freak at times) that I have turned myself into who always counts calories for every food she eats, the choice was between a Pizza/Lasagne without dessert and Greek Salad with dessert (since Pizza AND dessert would mean more calories). It was a tough call, but in the end I decided to go for the Salad which automatically meant that I could treat myself with a dessert. So I ordered a large Salad and, well, Tiramisu. Tiramisu is one dessert which I love to death, and which often makes me want to marry an Italian. Then again, I love German cakes, French crêpes and Swiss chocolates, and practicing polygamy might not be such a great idea afterall! Nevertheless, when the order arrived and I checked the delivery, I figured that somehow they have given two cups of Tiramisu instead of one. Now, I am not sure how this happened, because they would not have possibly figured that I absolutely love Tiramisu. So either it was a mistake, or it was a special couple-offer (!!!) or something. Anyways, since the delivery guy had already left (and even if he hadn't, I would definitely not have returned the other one), I decided to keep the second one for tomorrow and finish off the rest. I was completely full by the time I finished the Salad, but since my eyes were hooked onto the Tiramisu, I decided to finish it off too. A moment later I was done, and I felt that my soul was finally at peace although my stomach was almost aching from eating so much. I decided to watch a few videos and read something, but somehow my mind kept wandering to the other cup of Tiramisu in the refrigerator. I tried to distract myself by watching a movie, by calling up friends; but somehow that goddamn Tiramisu was too strong to resist. Moments later I went up to the refrigerator, took out the cup, and finished it off in one breath. And then, I felt like bursting. How i wanted to kill myself for not being able to control my pangs, for not being able to resist food, and for not caring about my 'diet'. I sulked for about an hour, decided to spend an extra hour at the gym the next day and promised myself not to have dessert for the next three weeks. But having said that, the satisfaction it gave me was undoubtedly, unparalleled! 

So, for the umpteenth time, I decided to forgive myself! Afterall, happiness comes in little boxes, or cups for that matter :)