I don't always boast about my memory, but usually I remember almost all birthdays. My boisterous and sarcastic self is prompt in making me realize that I usually remember birthdays if the person happens to be a girl. Ignore that taunt. But today I almost forgot a birthday. So here is my message to the birthday boy.
It was exactly a year ago when sitting cosily in my office chair wondering about my future project (I had just finished then current assignment - or someone else had taken over, I don't exactly remember), I suddenly remembered about my blog. It is a fact that I had started blogging much before than that, on rediffblogs (I don't even remember the url!), but without any considerable progress. Then I had tried blurty too. But I didn't like it too much. Trying to give up on blogs, life was dull, somber and totally un-happening. Then I tried blogger and I kinda liked it. So I continued with it. And here we are after a year together, when my blog says, "Well, we haven't fared that bad, have we?" and my sarcastic self does not agree.
Coming back to the title, it is not me who I am portraying as a true man for forgetting a birthday, but it is my blog, for kicking my south end and telling me that it is his birthday. No woman can do that, believe me. And I am not likely to forget this again. Why did it have to be ghatotkatch?
signing off,
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