Just random info: Today, the 22nd of April, apart from being a Monday and the first day of my summer vacation, also happens to be my birthday. I’m thirteen years old today.
And PS: please don’t take this poem in a literal meaning. You know, with the wolves and birds…
Yeah. I was lucky enough to not undergo a worst case scenario ever in my life until yesterday. My dad’s special fifty-something birthday. My sister already wrote about it…but I couldn’t resist the urge to vent my feelings out too.
Yeah, anyway, my dad doesn’t really believe in cutting cakes or enjoying on his birthday. Birthdays, for him, are days when you sit before God and pray, just like every other day.
But not this Saturday
He got a call in the morning from this hotel next to our house where we go every once in a while when my mom gets sick of cooking. We had filled a feedback form when we went there last time and my dad had written his birth date on it (Why?). They remembered and called him to eat there in the evening with three other people. On discount.
It was paradise for my dad. While coming back from my piano classes, he dragged us (me and my sister) over to that place.
At first, it went on all right. My dad was practically giddy with delight because of his favorite retro songs in the background and the compliment dishes we got. Halfway through the meal, right when I was trying to digest the extremely heavy chicken biriyani, my dad confessed something that made me feel like all the rice would come out through my mouth in a less-than-nice way
They were going to make him cut his birthday cake. And blow candles. For free.
This piece of information made me envy my mother, who was sitting at home, watching Hindi talk shows and eating puffed rice, greatly. My sister refused, point blank, to remain in that place for more that a minute. But before anything could happen, the dreary background music stopped and another tune started.
Yeah, you guessed right. Happy Birthday to you, dear. May god bless you, dear! And worse.
I was deciding whether or not they would realize my absence if I hid under the table, when they brought the cake in. It was white with purple flowers and green sugary leaves, complete with a shimmering candle on top. My dad’s happiness knew no bounds.
And my embarrassment did not either.
I mean, all the people sitting around us were staring. Till now, I never realized how annoying it would be if I were a celebrity. The hotel staff sang the birthday song and my sister took pictures. All I could do was sit there and hope the ground would devour me.
My dad could hardly blow the candles for smiling. Everyone around us were grinning and laughing.
Great. Now, everyone knew we were there because of a lame discount. They brought plates and we ate some of the cake and they packed it for us to take home.
My legs kept moving impatiently towards the exit while my dad was talking to the hotel manager, his new best friend.
The breath of the polluted street air felt like the smell of a million roses to my nose. My dad still had that wild smile on his face that made him look like he had a million dollars in his pocket.
That’s when I realized… all this, it was all worth it. Just for my dad. For his special day, anything, even dying of embarrassment, was worth it. Happy Birthday, dad. I know you had a rocking time, and I (**cough**) had fun (**cough**) too. (**cough**)
Thinking Out Of The Blog 