25th of August was like any other day but friends told me I would become a fifty-year-old woman. When I was younger, much younger than today, I thought 50 was the oldest thing we could ever come up with. I remember the very day that my father became 50, I cried thinking that he would die. I am now 50 but I feel like 28 or something, just a bit more mature.
I do not celebrate my birthday. But it was a sweet surprise to be invited to a grand celebration of the inauguration of my new poetry book in Hindi, Mujhe Dena Aur Prem, give me more love. It is the best birthday gift I have ever got.
It seems time flies faster than light.
I do not think I will get to see in my lifetime that humans don’t die. I would be happy if my brains remain active as long as I live. I would be happy if I continue doing what I have been doing for decades. After death, I don’t mind to go to the place where I was, before I was born. I am a bit sad though because I know I will never be able to see my parents and the loved ones who died.
I have written 35 books or probably more than 35 books. I am not yet satisfied. I would like to write much better books. Life is too short. Days are gone in a minute, years get finished before I know it is finished. I hope I would get 20 more years to think, to write, to travel, to inspire thousands of people to believe in human rights.