When I was 5 years old, my mother always told me that happiness was the key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote down ‘happy.’ They told me I didn’t understand the assignment, and I told them they didn’t understand life.
—Nick Offerman
“Hum bhi agar bache hote,
Hum bhi agar bache hote,
Naam hamara hota bablu, dablu
khaane ko milte ladoo,
Aur duniya kehti Happy Birthday to you…”
Funny how I remembered this song by heart all my childhood and forgot it promptly when it became relevant. I guess that is what growing up is. Sad.
Yes, I am.
Grew up in a house where everyone had a greater right to the place than us, the year-round residents. Or caretakers, as I felt of us. A house which was rarely without visitors – friends, well-wishers and, mostly, relatives (well-wishing or not). A weak financial status didn’t help our independence either. And the bullish Punjabi culture around didn’t give much space to our soft, almost meek, personalities.
So, you may understand when I say I value my privacy. That I ferociously protect my private space and time. And I’m very Very choosy about who I call a close friend. Friends, yes, plenty. Close friends I’ll share my heart with on every topic – not even a handful. Yet, priceless.
It may also help you understand why I so diligently maintain my distance from the few close relatives I have in this country. Knowingly or not, they did spoil a lot of things for me while I was growing up. Many more than they could pay for with the gifts they brought on every visit to India. So, when I maintain this distance, I only do them a favour – by not interfering in their lives in a similar manner. Or giving them the faintest of hints that they could interfere in mine.
P.S.: These thoughts were brought out of hibernation by a voice-mail invitation from an Aunt to a year-end family gathering. Interestingly, she called from a private number, asked me to call back and confirm but forgot to leave her number – should I read much into this? :|