Anyone who
knows me even on a passing level, knows that I place a fair amount of importance on
birthdays. I am good at remembering dates
without reminders and I do enjoy, in whatever small way I can, making people
feel special on their birthdays. I can
hear the voice of your mind: “But people deserve to be treated well on all days,
not just their birthdays.” Yes, of
course! But in a way that exclamation
point that you just saw at the end of the previous line emphasizes an emotion,
a wish on someone’s birthday is just an exclamation point. It does not take away the importance of what
precedes or succeeds it. In a far
contrast from enjoying and celebrating others’ birthdays, I am quite
different on my own birthday. Whilst I
appreciate the blessings and wishes, in recent years, I see my birthday as an
opportunity to pause and reflect on the year that has concluded and the year
that is about to begin. This June, I
turned 45. For some reason, this was the
first year that I truly felt like a middle-aged person (that I have technically
been since turning 40). But far from
feeling any strong emotion, I felt more reflective. It felt less like an exclamation point and
more like an intermission point.
In Indian
films, filmmakers take great pains to ensure that the pre-intermission scene of a film finishes on a high of some sort, be it dramatic, suspenseful or comical,
depending on the genre. During the
10-minute break, viewers are supposed to feel a dash of anticipation about what
is to come. None of that happened when I
turned 45! My close ones made me feel truly special, no doubt. But on
and after that day, I was just looking back at the ‘first half' of my
life. `
I
can sum up the first half of my life in one line: I have led an ordinary life surrounded by
extraordinary people. I have experienced
lows, highs, delight and despair in no particular order. But one constant in my life has been the presence
of everyday heroes. The “extraordinary”
aspect of them doesn’t come from achievements that you read about in newspapers. They are not the supporting cast in the story
of my life. They are the heroes whose heroism
comes from stability, not sensationalism.
The kind of stability that makes the peaks and troughs of life feel
closer to homeostasis than they sometimes are.
Loss is an inevitable part of life.
I am now old enough to have gone through a considerable amount of loss
(more than what I bargained for though).
But even as I think of the heroes who are not part of my life anymore, the
memories have stayed, just like those impactful flashbacks in films!
As an
aspiring movie critic, I am always interested in the arcs shaped by writers and
traversed by the characters that they write. In a
similar vein, if I were to look at my own life's journey, there are two aspects where
I have changed a lot as a person over time.
One is idealism. And the second is
display of emotion.
I used to be a lot more idealistic in my thoughts. My belief in the power of goodness
to solve all the world’s problems was unshakeable. But I
am certainly not the wide-eyed fellow that I once was. I do not readily accept people into my life like
I used to. None of this is to suggest
that I am a perfect man who became cynical because of feeling let down by
people. Far from it. I am simply stating that with all my flaws
and virtues, in order to lead my life with a certain amount of centeredness, I have needed to be a little more measured about whose goodness that I can
take for granted and whom I need to be chary about. In a strange way, this cynicism has also liberated me from the burden of missed expectation. Outside of my inner circle, I have gotten better at not expecting the world to be benevolent to me. Lesser expectations, after all, do lead to lesser disappointments.
Not
unrelated to the insidious erosion of idealism is the fact that my displays of
emotion are restricted to an extremely small set of people, the same people
whose goodness I take for granted. I
have gotten better at holding my emotional cards closer to my chest than I used
to. A younger version of me was all
emotion, a person whose heart was displayed on a sleeve that had as much
privacy as a shirt on a clothing store mannequin. I still wish that my face was more opaque and
not as easily accessible a mirror to my emotions.
But I know how I was and how I am now.
I am not suggesting that one is better than the other. I just know that I have changed as a person.
A crucial
aspect of middle age is related to the second part of that term- ageing! I am very conscious of the inextricable link
between one’s physical and mental health.
I do not take my health for granted.
I do smile when I look at the greying hair and the wrinkles on my face and
the fact that my agility, which was something that I could take for granted when I was
younger, is something that I work hard for. I am acutely aware of the fact that I have to work on
my diet and exercise that much harder to be able to show up at the same level
of physical health that I could achieve with much less effort. But I suppose that it comes with the territory!
I am also
at an age where I see loved ones belonging to previous generations become
septuagenarians and octogenarians. The
heart refuses to accept that they are also ageing. I just wish that there is a time machine to
slow or reverse their ageing. But I am equally
glad to see that they place emphasis on having an active
lifestyle, engaging their minds and bodies.
I once read an article in the Time magazine that spoke of how,
contrary to Parkinson’s Law, time expands to fill the work that you set out to
do. I only hope and pray that time keeps
expanding for the (g)oldies who are dear to me.
The themes
of a film are quite well-formed by the intermission point. Similarly, the broad strokes of one’s
character are in place by the time they are at a ripe young age of 45. Lessons learned from the aforementioned everyday heroes have been registered
but are not always fully internalized at the same pace. I continue to consider myself a work in progress. I am at an age where I have gained enough that
I must now give that goodness to people who consider me a member of the supporting cast
of their life.
On that
note, dear reader, the intermission is over.
Let us hope that the second half is a good one! And that the best is yet to come.
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