It had to come—this day, like it does every year, passing by and waiting patiently for the next. 

A year has flown by since my 75th birthday, an uneventful milestone. And so, the wheel of life turns, circling toward the ultimate merger. 

My birthday came and went. I never tire of speaking to my sons, daughters-in-law, and grandkids—how could I? Their wishes smiles, and heartfelt conversations bring peace and tranquility, leaving me in a state of bliss. 

I’ve never placed much importance on my birthday. After all, is spending a year lounging on beds and sofas really worth celebrating? It would happen whether I made a fuss or not. 

In her usual cheerful and sentimental way, my wife insisted on making a sweet dish. Sweet? I’m teetering on the edge of diabetes, thanks to hormones and other treatments. She reassured me: “A small amount occasionally won’t hurt.” So, she prepared the dish using jaggery, a healthier alternative to sugar. And, of course, it turned out wonderfully—it was her recipe, after all. Love was the secret ingredient, making every bite special. 

In our tradition, birthdays are celebrated based on the birth star’s ruling day. This year, my birth date and star aligned—a rare occurrence, though my son’s astrologer friend mentioned it happens every 19 years. 

My wife wanted to buy me clothes, but I refused. My midriff has been expanding and contracting like a bellows, and all the clothes bought in recent years have gone to waste. We settled on a dhoti—a perfect gift. No matter what shape my midriff takes, I can always wear a dhoti! 

Traditionally, we visit a temple on star birthdays, but I was too fatigued from a recent hormone injection. My wife went on her own and offered prayers. I stayed home, enjoying the prasad in the comfort of air-conditioning. 

And so, the day passed, as did the next, and the next... 

Contd. 385. Sounds Like Music