When I was seven, I received a birthday card from my grandfather. The handwriting was shaky, the ink a little smudged, but the message on the inside was loud and clear: “Many many happy returns of the day, Happy Birthday.” I didn’t quite understand the weight of the words back then. I remember asking my mother, “What does that mean?” She smiled and replied, “It means may this day come again and again, bringing you happiness each time.”
And just like that, a phrase I once dismissed as old-fashioned became a quiet echo in every birthday that followed.
A Whisper From the Past
The phrase “many many happy returns of the day” is steeped in nostalgia. Though its exact origin traces back to the 18th century, likely from British customs, its sentiment has always been simple yet profound: wishing someone repeated joy, not just for today but for all the birthdays yet to come.
In the days before WhatsApp statuses and Facebook timelines, birthday wishes were hand-written in cards, spoken over landline calls, or delivered in person with a hug and a homemade cake. The excitement wasn’t about Instagram captions or boomerang videos—it was about the people who remembered, the ones who showed up.
My uncle, who moved abroad in the late ’80s, used to send us aerogrammes—those thin blue letters folded like origami—from Dubai. Every year on my birthday, one of those fluttered into our mailbox with a message that always ended with “Many many happy returns of the day.” I still have a few of them, tucked inside an old biscuit tin that smells faintly of ink and memories.
Traditions Around the World
Every culture has its way of celebrating the passage of time. In India, birthdays often begin with a quiet prayer at the family altar, followed by sweets distributed at school. In Mexico, children swing at piñatas, their laughter echoing through courtyards. In China, longevity noodles are served, symbolizing long life. And in Ghana, a special dish called oto—made from mashed yam and eggs—is eaten with joy.
Despite these differences, one thing remains universal: the birthday wish. Whether whispered in a candlelit room, shouted at a surprise party, or typed across continents, it carries a kind of magic. And in many South Asian households, especially among elders, that same phrase lingers: “Many many happy returns of the day.”
There’s a certain dignity in how it’s said. Not flashy. Not trendy. But heartfelt.
The Digital Turn
Then came the internet.
Suddenly, birthdays were no longer private or intimate affairs. Social media reminded hundreds of friends—some distant, some close—that it was your special day. Greetings flooded in: some heartfelt, others obligatory. Emojis replaced expressions. GIFs stood in for gestures.
Instead of one phone call that made your day, now there were hundreds of notifications that left you numb.
I remember a birthday not long ago when my phone buzzed all day long. My wall was filled with birthday wishes. But somehow, the day felt hollow. Amidst all the noise, I missed that one call from my grandmother, who had passed the previous year. She never forgot to say the same words: “Many many happy returns of the day, my dear.”
Digital communication, for all its convenience, often loses the soul of tradition. A birthday wish typed in haste can’t match the warmth of a voice that’s been wishing you since your very first breath.
Keeping the Warmth Alive
Yet, all is not lost. Technology can be a vessel, too, if we let it carry what truly matters.
A few years ago, my cousin made a birthday video for his mother. It wasn’t polished or viral-worthy, but it stitched together old photographs, voice notes, and short clips of family members saying their wishes. When it ended with his dad saying, “Many many happy returns of the day,” there wasn’t a dry eye in the room.
We’re learning to adapt. Video calls have replaced doorstep visits. E-cards carry personal voice notes. And even emojis—when sent with love—can light up someone’s day.
It’s not about resisting change. It’s about carrying forward the warmth that has always defined birthday wishes. Whether we type it out or say it out loud, the essence remains the same: you are remembered, and you are loved.
A Personal Reflection
This year, on my birthday, I decided to turn off all my social media. I woke up, made myself a cup of chai, and opened the old biscuit tin. I pulled out one of those aerogrammes from my uncle. The ink had faded, but the words were still there:
I read it slowly. Twice. Then picked up the phone and called him.
“Chachu,” I said, “Thank you. Your letter still makes my birthday special.”
He laughed, “You still have those? God, I must’ve written them decades ago.”
Some things, I’ve realized, don’t age. A genuine birthday wish is one of them.
The Everlasting Wish
So the next time you say “Happy Birthday,” pause for a moment. Add a little more of yourself. Write a note. Record a voice message. Or say the words that have traveled across generations:
