In a world where one birthday is cause for celebration, imagine the sheer joy—or perhaps bewilderment—of having three. Such is the delightful chaos I inhabit, where my birth is commemorated thrice annually, thanks to a curious blend of cultural traditions, bureaucratic quirks, and a well-meaning neighbour’s impromptu date assignment.

First, we have the Gregorian calendar, the one that most of the world swears by. According to this rational, solar-based system, my birth fell on the 22nd of June. A date marked by summer solstice celebrations and, quite fittingly, a day when the sun shines the brightest. Perfect, right? Well, not quite.

Next, we journey to the mystical realm of the Hindu calendar, where celestial bodies dance to their own rhythm. Here, my birth is celebrated in the month of Ashada under the star Revathi. As fate would have it, these two rarely pair up in any given year, ensuring that my Hindu birthday remains an elusive event, much like spotting a unicorn.

But wait, the plot thickens! Back in the good old days before birth certificates and official records, the date of birth was more of a creative suggestion than a factual entry. Enter the well-meaning neighbour, tasked with the solemn duty of registering my birth for school. With a stroke of genius or perhaps just a lapse in memory, this kind soul gifted me a third birthday: July 10th of the previous year. And thus, my official birthday was born – or rather, re-born.

Fast forward to the present day, and you’ll find my children gleefully celebrating not one, not two, but three of my birthdays each year. June 22nd brings the joy of summer, Ashada and Revathi add a touch of celestial mystery, and July 10th offers a nostalgic nod to my childhood days. It’s like being the prince, only without the palace and the corgis.

So, what does one do with three birthdays? Revel in the extra cake, of course! Accept three times the gifts, bask in threefold the love, and graciously endure the confusion of friends and family. After all, in a world that often rushes through life’s milestones, why not savour a trio of opportunities to reflect, celebrate, and indulge?

As I blow out the candles for the umpteenth time, I can’t help but chuckle at the delightful absurdity of it all. Three birthdays – a testament to the quirks of fate, the whims of tradition, and the benevolent blunders of a neighbour long ago. And so, I raise my glass (thrice, naturally) to the joy of living a life that’s anything but ordinary.