Monsoon of Memories: When Birthday Parties were Labors of Love
Each family member had a designated role to play, and they all got on with their tasks as soon as the day arrived. Mum took the lead at home, while dad ran errands outside the home. Dad was also handy when it came to blowing up the balloons, hanging up the streamers, and making a home-made piñata. Mum soaked the chickpeas, everyone’s favorite, the night before, and so we knew what the main course would be.
It was my birthday and what I loved most about the day was the party that my parents put together for me at home.
As I now flip through the photo albums of the birthdays gone by, my heart warms up at the sight of pictures with a lavish spread of homemade goodness— pooris, the fried flatbread; chana, a chickpeas curry; cucumber butter sandwiches; noodles with vegetables; chaat, the fresh fruit platter; French fries; burgers with potato patties; and finally a vanilla cake baked and decorated together by mum, my sister and me. What my friends didn’t know until the end of the party was that mum had also made chocolate ice cream!
During the party, we played a multitude of innovative and fun games. One week before the day, my sister got on with the preparations. She planned it all—the format, the rules, the tools, and of course, the prizes. She let me assist when she was in a good mood—she’s elder to me, so that kind of came with the role.
My parents also took me out to pick the return gifts for my friends, and a birthday dress for myself. I took my time to make the selections and not once did they rush me. They indulged my queries about which color pencils were the best to gift, and which shoes matched my dress. When it all came together, they lovingly appreciated my efforts.
In all, I had a wonderful day each year and my parents clicked a roll of pictures as they captured my growing up years on camera. We would wait for a week for the images to get developed. When they arrived, all of us together put them in the album and relived my birthday once more, until the next one came.
To date, I host birthday gatherings at home, smitten early by the charm of simple and homely celebrations. I do recall how, as we entered our teens, most of my friends had begun to celebrate their special moments at new-age eateries, with burgers and fries in a box but I never found the idea appealing. I’d see the staff members at these joints put up a dance too but it never came close to the excitement that bubbled at home. How we had a good laugh over blunders of using the felt tape on the walls for the streamers! Mum would take out the best of the dinnerware. Dad would help us set and pause the cassette tape on the recorder, just waiting at the right moment to play the birthday song. We worked together as a team and it showed. Later, I had the best sleep ever after all the excitement and woke up the next morning already counting days to the next birthday party.
The no-frills, labor of love parties, where the flavor of the cake or the theme of the party was not the highlight, was one of the biggest lessons I learned growing up. It may not be possible to rewind to those days, but each of us can always adorn our moments with homemade nourishment on the table and beyond.
Purva Grover is an author, journalist, poet, playwright and stage director. A postgraduate in mass communication and literature, she is the founder-editor of The Indian Trumpet, a digital magazine for Indian expats in the UAE. She can be reached at grover.purva@gmail.com. To comment on this article, please write to letters@khabar.com.
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