Felt like a real celebration, then

Miraj Chauhan

At 12 midnight, I was in deep slumber when the phone beside me crackled. Haphazardly I cradled the receiver and said ‘hello’ in a voice that sounded tipsy, not because of intoxication, but due to interrupted sleep. Waking someone up from sound sleep is nothing short of a sin. 

To my further amazement, a group of people on the other end cried in unison ‘Happy birthday!’ which gave me a jolt. I collected myself and said a polite thank you. After getting an assurance of a party, they hung up. Quite awake now, I wriggled into my cosy blanket to embrace sleep once again, but could not. I thought of the massive transition birthday celebrations have gone through.

There was a time in the 1980s and the ’90s when birthday was celebrated amid the entire neighbourhood. No fancy food joints, no fast food, no expensive gifts, but a very affectionate way of bestowing a bounty of blessings on the birthday boy or girl. Only a cake from the nearby bakery used to be a ‘foreigner’ among the native, mouth-watering dishes like pakoras, samosas and gulab jamuns, along with refreshing lemonade. Friends and family used to play games, and later the birthday boy was asked to give a solo performance,   through which he could exhibit his talent either in singing or dancing. The child, otherwise shy, would gradually come out of his cocoon to venture a performance before the gathering. The thunderous applause from the audience would leave the performer in sheer ecstasy.

To my dismay, all such cordial parties have become a thing of the past and have been buried deep down in memories. Now, I see children pestering their parents for a lavish party in some exquisite lounge and restaurant, wherein they are exposed to snobbery at a very young age, which adversely affects their mindset. 

The other day, my daughter came up with a similar demand. She left no avenue unexplored to coax me, but it did not melt my heart. I may have sounded like a stern parent, but I had only one intention to make her realise that money does not grow on trees. She wanted a birthday celebration at school, and later in the evening, at a multi-cuisine restaurant, and most importantly, a new ‘tablet’ that would set me back by Rs 20,000. 

We had a long conversation, and I tried my best to knock some sense into her. After several painstaking attempts, and numerous I-am-not-talking-to-you sessions, we finally came to terms. The deal was either she could celebrate the birthday and buy new dresses, or she could get a tablet of her choice as present. She went with the latter.