Only fair to get the warning up front, isnt it? Like when folks make these incredible sad romantic type movies where the two lovers part and never meet again for the rest of their lives, and keep pining and pining, but not withering either in size or the roses of them cheeks, there should be printed in bold on the movie ticket, Font size 28 “Donot wear mascara”, or for them Jim Carrey movies, also, similiar Font size 28 warning stamped across, “Donot eat complicated stuff, anyone who chokes on edibles while watching this movie will not be reimbursed.” You get my drift.
Therefore, read on only if you have a M&B toughed gut and can stomach mush and drivel, though I try to cough it up occasionally and am also much embarassed by the low depths of soppiness my fingers on the keyboard can sink to. Forgive me today. Because it is the spouse’s birthday. And I love him from the very bottom of my heart, metaphorically speaking of course, and I feel it mandatory to do a Happy Birthday to you post here.
Happy Birthday darling spouse. The first year we celebrated your birthday as a couple, Rajiv Gandhi was assassinated. Strangely, that remains the primary association with which the neurons connect your birthday–Rajiv Gandhi’s death anniversary. We sat around the television, me drippy eyed and watching the images on a loop of the bloodstained sneaker, the white kurta, and the implied pixellated horror where there had once been the back of a head. We didnt do much celebrating that day. And anyway, you always claimed you’re not a great guy for celebrating days, given the pressure on you come Valentine’s day to dish up something that would knock my sockets out. That was then. You were a college student on no pocket money, and high tastes. Today, twenty years down the line, you you knock my sockets out and how. Unfailingly, endearingly, and it has been so worth the wait.
I’ve seen you go from a self conscious, exceedingly handsome, even arrogant teenager, believing the world was his oyster, to what you are today, a forty year old, mature, responsible, dignified, caring and giving soul. I’ve known you to be hot headed and not hesitate before throwing a few punches around before getting down to discussion just for warm ups. I’ve seen you go from an insanely possessive boyfriend, to a supportive, caring and totally non interfering husband who gives me all the space I need, and all the support I need. You are so easy going now, that I know I am blessed. A wife who doesnt cook, doesnt keep house, doesnt work fulltime, doesnt do anything of importance except shop and eat, and never once do you bark about it. If anything you indulge me like you would indulge a child. I know I behave ridiculously at times, and you look on and smile. And know I will trip off whatever I’ve been smoking and get back to normal soon. You are my rock. I’d like to think I am yours too.
We’ve grown together from two moronic sappy youngsters, fighting like prize roosters every single day, with size 24 and size 28 waists to two grey haired size 30 and 34 waists respectively, who now have no energy left for actual fighting and concentrate the little we have left for better things. We have produced one spawn of combined sperm and womb, who has had the good taste to take the best of both of our features and the worst of both of our abilities. We have built a home together. We have been together now for longer than we had lived when we first met. That should count for something. That simply means I cannot even remember how life was before I met you. And that says a lot.
Happy birthday darling. I know you never read the blogs, but I write this nonetheless. And thank you for being the wonderful man you are. I truly lucked out in the good spouse department.