Fifty Sneaks Up On Me.......

 And so I turned fifty. The strange thing about that is that this can never be a surprise; but there you are… a day or two from the event, and guess what?? You are surprised. Wow! How did that happen?

Surprised?  Seriously?? Moron. It has been happening for 49 years and 360+ days. Get with the program.

The thing is, we don’t really pay attention to our age till we hit a milestone. 20 was probably the most looked forward to of these. I was no longer a teenager. I was TWENTY. Then came twenty-one. For the life of me I cant understand the significance of that number. What the fuck is so great about being twenty-one? What halfwit set laws to make drinking legal at 21? You can marry at 18 (or 16 if you were a woman), drive at 18, vote governments in at the same age, but you cant drink? Go figure.

Thirty. Now things get serious and you start to worry. I was a father of two. I was supposed to have been responsible and mature and close to middle age. Well, I think thirty is [if I am not mistaken] where middle age starts. Careers are supposed to be up and running and you are supposed to have a clue about what you want to do with your life. Damned If I had a clue at that age…

Forty. Divorce number one and marriage number two, all around the same time. I now have my size tens firmly planted in middle age, with an ever-expanding mortgage and overdraft. Collar size sees a dramatic increase from 15 ½ to 16 ½ and waist from 31 to 34. Weight sees a corresponding upward movement and thankfully so does career. Hair starts to thin, chins increase in numbers and my mid drift seems to block the view of my manhood, at least till I crane my neck to see if its all there. I survived.

Suddenly I am fifty. I planned and re-planned my celebrations. Bands, Halls, cocktails, dinners, went through lengthy guest lists for a year and finally settled for the most sensible thing in my opinion. Give most of the party budget to charity and settle for a few nights of alcoholic mayhem with those near and dear.

It all fell into place when the Bradby Shield, the annual Rugby encounter between my High School and one up in the hills, was scheduled on the weekend of my birthday in Kandy.

For the past 24 years, barring a couple, I have made the annual trip up to Kandy, to the Citadel Hotel, the annual gathering place of most former Royalist Rugby players and alumnus, to spend this weekend in a alcoholic haze under the guise of being vaguely interested in the game or the outcome of it. It has been a great excuse to get together with many an old and dear friend and drink copious quantities of booze and behave like teenagers.

Rugby songs are sung and acted out, old yarns are swapped and one has been known to have run screaming through the hotel lobby stripped down to his undies, in the wee hours of the morning, with a rugby ball tucked under his arm, or leaping into the pool still in said undies much to the horror of the long suffering bar staff, some of whom have watched twenty something boys, grow to fifty something men and still behave the same.

This year was no different.

It all started off on Thursday night, when we finished an official conference call that was a great success and decided to celebrate that along with my colleague Roshan’s birthday, which it was. Drinks early and home. Early and home worked out well. Early morning that is. Charlene had arranged for my friend to surprise me at the bar (kind of misfired when Ranil forwarded the text to me).  One drink or two, turned out to be many drinks and laughs and a great evening. My sons and Sahar (Sachin’s girlfriend) dropped in as well and it was an awesome start to my birthday.

I had to drag myself to office the next morning as ‘surprises’ had been planed [that I knew all about] and I could not let the folks down. Surprisingly I was quite bright eyed and made it without too much grief. After the celebrations and wishes, I headed back home. C and I had decided to fly to Kandy that afternoon so the trip was painless. 20 minutes of bouncing around and we were there. A far cry from the three plus hours of traffic we would have endured had we not given ourselves a birthday treat.

The boys and Sahar had driven up earlier with a big box of booze and when we got to the Citadel, the familiar faces greeted us with big grins saying “babaala denna awa” (the two babies had arrived) although far from babies, the boys had been coming up with me since they were babies and were the same in the eyes of the older staff members.

The box of booze was quite ‘adequate’. A dozen bottles each of Scotch and Vodka. I was expecting the usual suspects to be there and in addition my former boss and ‘mentor’ Ajit Gunawardene, had made special effort to be there for the Friday evening and long with his band of merry men (and women) who were regulars at the event.

I will spare you all the details, but let me tell you that, ‘that was the best fiftieth birthday I had in my life’. Well, that was the bright statement I made at 6.30 am when I was getting out of the pool having soaked in it since 4 am. It all seemed like a good idea at that time. I’d like to think based on the humor the song and the conversation that was had by all, and that all those present and accounted for had a great time. The fifty year olds, out lasted the twenties and the sixty and the seventy year olds out sang us all. There is nothing quite so special than spending a spontaneous evening with closest friends and this night was exceptional. Chulaka, Ranil, Butchchi, Deb, Wathsala, Sriyan, Minal, Shiraz, Ajith and Ruwani, Ajit G and Co and of course my amazing sons Sharya and Sachin, our ‘daughter’ Sahar and their bunch of merry men, thank you. To the many others who drifted in and out of the evening, thank you as well; you’ll truly made my day (and night) special.

They say a man is as good as the company he keeps. I have had the best. I could ask for no more. My Z3 brothers and sisters, The riders, The walkers, Dinesh, Niththi, Bunny, Ro, George and D you were missed; Those who are no more, Harith, Harish, SA, Josh, Ravi and many others. Not being mentioned here does not mean any lesser degree of importance in my life; I owe what I am to you. Thank you. I am forever grateful for the friendship, shared experience and companionship.