24

I turned 24 today. When I was 13, I thought 24 (or anything beyond 20 really) is time to call it a day, close shop, and turn into a fossil. Now that I am that fossil, I hardly feel old (not that 24 is OLD, but you get what I mean). I feel like the same fragile person I was back then, and yet I have grown so much and learnt quite a bit along the way. Birthdays always tend to draw out the introspective side in me. So here is my attempt at penciling down what I feel this day.

Today was simple: I like simple birthdays. Those who know me, know this. But that does not mean I did not have a good birthday. In fact it was pretty awesome in all its simplicity. It started with blueberry cheesecake, apple pie and white chocolate fudge, sprinkled generously with a lot of love, hugs and kisses from the three people that matter the most in my life. It went on to include calls from friends and relatives, texts and FB messages, church, onion pakodas and a long session at the beauty salon.

While I was undergoing one medieval torture after another in the name of beauty, I had time to reflect, something I usually do to escape the excruciating pain when hot wax drips from my arms and my eyebrows are being plucked mercilessly. I recalled that when I was 13, I wanted to be 18. I couldn't wait to grow up. To my 13-year-old, pigtailed self, that age seemed glamourous. I told myself I would be flawless, beautiful, have a handsome boyfriend (who would be six feet tall, will play the guitar, and sweep me away on a bullet), will be invited to loads of parties and have many close girlfriends (all slightly less attractive than me). I dreamt of this life so much that when I was 20, I was still looking out for the 18-year-old life of my dreams. I was restless, bored and aimless.

I had this terrible habit of never being happy in my own skin. If I heard my classmate singing like an angel, I wanted to force my throaty voice into operatic submission. If I saw a friend do graceful pirouettes, I negotiated (unsuccessfully) with my two left feet for similar effects. I just wasn't satisfied with who I really was. It did not matter that I had a confident reading voice: I wanted to give impromptu speeches; I hardly cared for my thick wavy hair: I wanted it slick-straight. So you see, I didn't want to be who I really was.

  

It took me awhile to grow up, shed superficial longings and learn to enjoy this life I have been called  for. It did not happen in a day. I still am work-in-progress but I have accepted my life, myself, and do not depend anymore on others to determine my happiness.

One of the ways I was able to achieve that was to actively look within: to learn myself, to explore those crevices of my existence which never saw the light of day before. I learnt that I was a totally different person to what I thought I was. I was overwhelmed by the layers I kept unearthing and my ignorant 13-year-old dreams flew out the window. I learnt to love the present. I know I am not the prettiest, or the wittiest or the most intelligent, but I do not dismiss my blessings as easily as I did before. I have an amazing relationship with God, a family that has never let me down, and willpower that will see me through rough times.

I, today, am not without flaws: I still get anxious over small things, I still am painfully shy and I can be too trusting. But, as I sat with a friend an hour before my birthday drew to an end, I accepted the reflection of the smiling 24-year-old in the glass window. I loved who she was, what she stands for, and waited eagerly to discover what would be in store for her. 

I even forgave the fact that she was polishing off ice cream at an alarming speed; the same speed at which she would have to run on the treadmill the next day.