In the hazy blur that is since COVID hit, days run into each other, with no distinction between work and home, rest and action. It is a homogenous, seamless blending of hours demarcated only by the meal hours. We gather around the table two times a day, partake in a meal and go our separate ways.
When going out is no longer a thing, when celebrations are really just another meal, it is hard to mark occasions like birthdays. It is even harder when the person in question is an old soul who eschews indiscriminate consumption of objects.
I hover over my open document trying to make sense of how I want to mark this day and realize other than that itch to do something, there is nothing to be done.
Vadais will be made and consumed. We will gather around and wish him. We will pray for a healthy, graceful rest of the year. We will serenade him at odd times. We will revel in the attributes that make him a good man.
Other than that, it will be just another day at home with nothing but food to make the difference. Happy birthday Saathi!