Felt like a normal day. A couple of friends stopped by to wish me and have lunch at my place. Metbloggers, by coincidence, were to meet that day. Got my only gift of the day. Lavanya had 'thoughtfully' bought me an address book and a fat pen. Well, I must be the only journalist, I guess, who doesn't have contacts. I don't keep an address book. The last one I wrote in still lies unused for more than 3 years gathering dust. Hopefully, now I will start anew.
Turning 30 isn't a big deal. Like I said it felt like any other day. I didn't look back on my 20s. I didn't think "ah! now finally I am a man". I hate my birthday. I hated this one too.
There were two things I did want to do before I turned 30. One was to be a chief sub. I missed this round of promotions in office. So that went unrealised. The other was to get married before I started to hate marriage. That didn't happen for a whole lot of reasons. Well, now I get a creeping sense of being a failure. No matter, I guess it will go away. Besides, there's plenty of snobbery in being a failure, you know. When things don't happen to you is the only time in your life when they can happen to you. Warped as that sounds.
Ok. April 17 was my birthday. I turned 30. That's for those who don't know.
Amit Agarwal has listed the top blogs in India. I didn't make it. Was really surprised to find Rohini there listed under journos. Envy is a hard thing to get over with, lemme tell you.