Setting:
It’s a chilly evening in Moscow. Two friends, Anya and Dima, are sipping tea in a cozy kitchen. The kettle whistles now and then, and a cat snoozes on the windowsill.
Anya:
Dima, I swear, if you so much as hint at throwing me a surprise party before next Thursday, I’ll stop speaking to you for a month.
Dima:
(laughs) I wasn’t going to! But really, what’s the big deal? It’s just a party. You’ll be 30 whether we celebrate on the day or the day before.
Anya:
It is a big deal! Celebrating early is bad luck. Everyone knows that. My бабушка (babushka) used to say, “Don’t anger fate by being too eager.” And look what happened to cousin Lena—she had her party two days early and broke her ankle the next morning.
Dima:
Anya, Lena broke her ankle because she tried to dance on the kitchen table in heels. That’s not fate—that’s physics. And probably vodka.
Anya:
(smirks) Okay, yes, vodka may have been involved. But still—bad things always seem to happen when people mess with these traditions.
Dima:
You know what that is? Confirmation bias. You remember the time it didn’t go wrong? No, because your brain isn’t wired that way. It’s like how people think Mercury in retrograde ruins their week, but ignore the other 47 times they just had a bad day for normal reasons—like traffic or Mondays.
Anya:
(laughs) I’m not blaming Mercury. Just saying—you don’t mess with the birthday gods. There’s something sacred about marking the day only when it actually comes. It’s like… opening presents before New Year. It’s rushing destiny.
Dima:
But destiny isn’t a delivery slot, Anya! It doesn’t come with a calendar reminder. You think the universe cares if your cake has candles a few hours early?
Anya:
Maybe not, but my soul does. I get this weird uneasiness, like something’s off. And I swear, every time someone I know celebrated early, something unfortunate followed.
Dima:
Okay, here’s a test. Remember Anton?
Anya:
Mm-hmm. The guy who wears turtlenecks even in July?
Dima:
Yes, him. We threw his birthday bash a week early because he was flying to St. Petersburg. Nothing bad happened. He got promoted the next month!
Anya:
He also chipped a tooth on a pistachio two days later.
Dima:
That’s not cosmic punishment, that’s poor chewing technique.
Anya:
(sips tea) Fine. But explain this: why is it such a widespread belief? Even modern Russians follow it. We’re not all babushkas clutching rosaries, you know.
Dima:
Traditions stick because they’re familiar and comforting. They give a sense of control in a chaotic world. It’s not about truth—it’s about emotion. But just because a lot of people believe something doesn’t make it true. For centuries people thought sneezing expelled the soul. Doesn’t mean it did.
Anya:
That’s true. But maybe some traditions have psychological value. Like a grounding ritual. Even if it’s not logical, it feels right.
Dima:
I get that. Rituals can be meaningful. I’m not saying toss them all out. I just think we should question the ones that come with fear. If it stresses you out more than it comforts you, maybe it’s time to rethink it.
Anya:
Hmm. I am tired of clutching my calendar like it’s a bomb trigger every year. And I do hate how it makes me so paranoid.
Dima:
Exactly. How about this—we don’t call it a birthday party. Just… a “pre-celebratory tea gathering with cake and friends and definitely-not-a-mention-of-turning-thirty.”
Anya:
(chuckles) Clever. You’re trying to sneak past the birthday gods on a technicality?
Dima:
Let’s outsmart superstition. Worst case, the cake is early. Best case, we reclaim your birthday from the anxiety monster.
Anya:
(sighs dramatically) Fine. But if I slip on ice next Friday, I’m blaming you and the pistachios.
Dima:
Deal. I’ll even write a strongly-worded letter to fate.
Science Vs Superstition 
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