I’m a self-confessed lamenter of the good old days. I’m talking about the days when we physically picked up the phone to wish our friends a happy birthday or even showed up at their homes at midnight with cakes and candles. Times when we celebrated anniversaries by sending big variegated bouquets of flowers to our dearest. Monsoons in which we got dirty in the muck after a Sunday morning rugby game, and upon arrival at home, were stripped naked outside the house and marched straight into the bathroom. Occasions that we celebrated with the entire extended family, which, once upon a time, made no other plans on select days of the year and were committed to togetherness.
