The weather today reminds me of Bombay, which consequently reminds me of one hell of a trip in June.
I've never been a big fan of birthday celebrations, per se. Although even for a non-believer like me, twenty one was a pretty big deal. Which is why we ended up in Bombay. However, now when I look back, it wasn't so much 'Twenty One' that made that trip so incredible, but the people (my cousins and best friends) who were with me that week.
Our day would start at 11am. We would sleepily find our way to the noisy kitchen, grabbing the first hot and crispy chicken nugget and omelet in our line of sight and quickly sit down to chomp on it before someone asked for a bite (When you live in a house of 8 people, you gotta fight for your right). Reaching a mutual consensus on where to go/what to do for the rest of the day usually took between 60-80 minutes. Getting everyone to go for a bath took another 60-80 minutes. By the time all that was done, each of us had to be ushered towards the front door like a flock of sheep or all the chaos would be for nothing. Everyday it would drizzle while we stuffed our selves in the car, singing Payphone and Feel So Close on top of our voices, as we made our way to some Restaurant to binge and indulge in the joys of unhealthy food - yes, after the lengthy brainstorming session, we would all settle on eating again. Full to the point of collapsing and promising not to eat another meal, us girls would win by popular vote and go shopping. Contrary to popular belief, shopping in Bombay is not dirt cheap. That fantasy you have of breezing your way from shop to shop, buying everything you see, does not actually happen. In fact, a lot of bargaining and stomping leaves you more or less empty handed. Piling ourselves back into the car, we'd go back home, only to freshen up and change into better looking clothes and set out again. The highlight of everybody's night was always 'gyaara bhaje ki bambu' which can be translated (not literally cause that is a bit coarse) to giving someone shit at 11 pm. Somehow, my cousins always made a mock court out of the entire thing and we would always end up laughing till our stomachs hurt whilst the bambu giver and taker would always make up (you aren't getting anything for guessing who they are).
There is something about waking up to a house full of chattering and familiarly, of people you love and cannot live without - and I don't think there is a worthy replacement or something you can even compare it to. Without taking into consideration the new and exciting city, the yummy food, the long drives on Sea Link, the bloody amazing clubs, the drinking, the cozy Menezes house - it would've still been the best birthday. Ever. Because there isn't a bunch of people I would've rather see than them, on the morning I turned 21 :)