Happy Birthday

Here is wishing you Happy Birthday, Dear Prasanna!

That’s very odd, you think? I don’t. Here is why.

On this birthday, I have received a few greetings cards, a few calls from family and friends, and many WhatsApp messages for which I’m grateful to the senders; yet, the total greetings fall rather short of the number of years I’ve been on this earth, and hence, this HBD to myself. Also, the total words in all the messages took no more than a minute for me to read, which left me hungry for more.

Didn’t my family and friends have a little more to say to me about me? Did those dear ones who omitted to greet me simply forgot, or wished me to note that I had somehow, sometime, somewhere annoyed them; or been found wanting?

Let me share with you how I spent the day. Beginning, as usual, at 5.00 am, I counted my blessings and being the meticulous person I am recorded these in my A-4 size Notebook.

Born a little after midnight on the earthen floor of a small room in our ancestral village home, lit by a lantern, a little umhei (a flat earthen bowl with embers) unsuccessfully trying to warm up the very chilly room; and my mother assisted by Kani Dhamna, the illiterate, self-trained village midwife who suffered from total night-blindness; it’s a miracle that my mother and I survived the delivery; and even though life-expectancy at birth, then, was less than 50 years, and infant mortality was alarmingly high; I’m still around, and thus a walking miracle. So, I’m full of gratitude to my parents for passing on strong genes, to Kani Dhamna for the safe delivery, and to my family, teachers, friends, and many others for nourishing me all though my life.

I summoned more positive stories to make my day memorable. SPT- a colleague, dear friend, and a wellness entrepreneur, had along with his team of doctors perused my blood reports some time ago and had told me, “Your Biological Age (BA) is 13 years less than your Chronological Age (CA). My target for you is below 50.” 

ChatGPT, on my request, recently reviewed my latest pathological report, and declared, “Your BA is 17 years less than your CA.” 

Thanks, SPT, and ChatGPT. What more do I need to feel healthy and happy?

Yug Bhatt, my little friend barged into our home, rushed up the stairs, got me to abandon my morning exercise, and insisted upon cutting the cake which he had brought for me, and eating the piece with the choicest chocolate topping; all before leaving for his KG I class, dressed as Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose, and providing me a demo run of his passionate speech: Tum mujhe khoon do, mein tumhe Azaadi doonga. Constitution Day celebration at his school! What more could I need for a cheerful start of the day?

At the government Primary school at Laharpur village, the scenario was rather depressing. Thirty-two kids from Class I to V packed in one room minded by a teacher from another school on temporary duty. Where are the five teachers posted here, I wondered? Spent some time with these very under-privileged students; a few of them, with a little encouragement form me, recited kavitas and told stories. I, too, told a story. Ran a little quiz, too.

How many bones do we have in our body?

205, said Shikha. That was pretty close.

Which animal has the largest number of bones?

Ajgar, said Arun.

How did you know that?

I thought of it here. He tapped his head.

My Birthday Wish

I hope no one would say to my face, at my back, or after I’m gone, “It’d have been better for the human race if he had never been born.”

In a memorable speech in 1925, Geroge Bernard Shaw made the distinction between the makers of empire like Napoleon, and the makers of  universe like Ptolemy, Newton, and Einstein; and eulogised the latter since ‘their hands are unstained by the blood of any human being on Earth.’[i]

Have I been a maker of empire? No.

Have I been a maker of universe? Nope.

Are my hands stained by the blood of any human being on Earth? Not to my knowledge, though I may have spilled some other blood, killing many mosquitoes and pests during my long (some say ‘very long’) life on earth.

HBD, Dear Prasanna.

Yug Bhatt's HBD card for me.

 

'Netaji Subhash Bose' cuts HBD cake for me. What a rare privilege!

(At Govt Primary School, Laharpur)

(Evening celebration with my Mobile Class)

Postscript

Madan, a dear friend, commented that HBD celebration is alien to our culture. So true. During my early years in Odisha, there was no birthday celebration for anyone. However, in western Odisha, Puo Jiuntia and Bhai Jiuntia were most solemn occasions when mothers and sisters would keep a nirjala vrat for the sons and brothers respectively. The gender bias was obvious since no similar vrat was for the girl child. I had lost my mother in early childhood, so there was no Puo Jiuntia for me, but my sisters kept the vrat on Bhai Jiuntia. I eagerly awaited the end of their fast, and the ceremony to feast upon the delicious  jugaar and laddos made with dhani and jaggery.

I've never celebrated my HBD, and haven't missed it at all, I guess.

And Dear Friends, I wasn't complaining about lack of HBD messages, but exasperated at being inundated with so very mechanical, eminently forgettable, and often most annoying emojis. If you haven't sent any message, please have mercy, and don't send any belated messages. Thanks for your understanding!

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[i] https://youtu.be/i77Jt38Bd98?si=Hq-fdZfrJOxUS_6E

George Bernard Shaw won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1926, and not in 1925 as mentioned in the video.

The quote  is from a speech given by Shaw in 1925 at the Napoleon International Congress at Paris.

I thank Subash Khuntia, a dear friend, for sharing the video of this speech on our group WhatsApp. I loved the speech, and borrowed a quote from it for my blog.