Not a Party, it's a Vibe

It is birthday weekend, and this one is special. To celebrate, I decided to do something meaningful: invite five amazing women who have each, in their own way, made my life richer.

What struck me most is how different they are and how we’re not even a "group of friends" in the typical sense. Some of them know each other, some don’t. And my conversations and relationship with each of them are completely unique.

There’s my first friend in London, who found me at the school gates. Over the years, we’ve talked about everything — travel, food, politics, therapy, inclusion, and matters of the heart.

Another friendship was born at a networking event. We bonded over employment law (yes, really!), ended up working in the same organisation, and became a duo that could sort out any work drama with a single conversation. We are self-appointed executive coaches to each other.

Then there’s the friend I met on the last carriage of the train, where we both sat every day on our way home from work. She with her foldable bike, I with my headphones. That daily commute home sparked something effortless.

One friend came into my life when she married a dear old friend of mine, an unexpected connection that is blossoming into something meaningful. And finally, there’s the one who has been my fitness inspiration for years. She is still trying to recruit me for her belly dancing (and I still haven’t said yes… yet)!

The night before the gathering, I stared at the planned fuss-free, order-in menu and thought - no, this isn’t me. How could the menu not have any of my own culinary delights? Something me?

So, I rolled up my sleeves and got to work on Shammi kebabs. As I browned the mince, mixed in the spices, added other ingredients, and finally shaped each kebab, my mind wandered through the years. I thought of birthdays past: The big party when I turned 10, in my white dress and silver sandals. My mum said, “You’re going to be a big girl soon & this will be your last kiddie party.” The one when I turned 16, a vivid memory of both my grandmothers enthusiastically celebrating me.  The one just before I left for my MBA with a fresh haircut, subtle highlights, and big dreams.The one right after I got engaged. The birthday when I was to go into labour any time, and in 48 hours, my son arrived. The one where I celebrated my first leadership role. And then many more...

Some birthdays were joyful. There were also some not-so-much- they were years I struggled to hold it together. Then at one point, I decided birthdays were overrated. I just wanted a peaceful day. And for a few years, that’s exactly what I did. No celebrations.

But that night, as the platter of kebabs grew, maybe one for every memory,  I felt something new.

Kebabs in the fridge, hands scrubbed clean, I put on a retinol sheet mask and ironed my dress for the next day. I caught my reflection, and for the first time on the eve of my birthday weekend, I felt… content.

Not excited. Not overwhelmed. Just peaceful. A quiet joy.

And I thought today, my 10-year-old self would be proud of me. So would my 21-year-old self. And the 35-year-old me. And that… that feels enough.

So, I reached for my reading glasses (a delicate balance over the sheet mask!), opened my laptop, and wrote this down.

Because for the first time, tomorrow is not a party, it’s a vibe.