Dear dedicated reader,
‘Happy Birthday’ may be the most sung song in the world, but that doesn’t mean the traditions will be the same.
By coincidence, both Priya and Vanisha’s birthdays came within three days of each other this past week and as a result, the students were all aflutter with whispering and ‘secret’ plans. Vanisha’s birthday came the same day as the principal’s son, Jaydeepbhai, so we were invited over to their house for cake.
We sat in the living room as the lights were turned out and the candles were lit and an Indian English version of Happy Birthday was sung. The cake was beautiful: chocolate with roses and two lovely candles which spelled out Jaydeepbhai’s age, 26. As they cut the cake, Jaydeepbhai took the first piece to his father and the principal opened his mouth obligingly to receive it. He then leaned down to touch his feet and his father blessed him by touching his head. Jaydeepbhai then took another small piece of cake to his mother and fed her as well. Next, to my surprise, he turned to Vanisha who was sitting next to him on their couch and fed her a piece, and then Melissa, and then, me. I opened my mouth to receive it and laughed as the cake got on my face.
Priya and Vanisha laughed at my reaction. “I forgot you guys haven’t seen this before,” Priya said, smiling. “Indians cut the cake before dinner and then everyone eats it by feeding it to each other.” No plates necessary, I thought. Very neat.
For dinner, Sejalben had made a special South Indian treat: Idli, spongy round cakes, over which you drizzle sambar, a soupy sauce and along with mashed coconut. This is possibly one of my favorite dishes ever, so I was delighted. For dessert, we had gulab jamun: small fried balls soaked and served in a bath of clear, sweet syrup. Instant diabetes in a bowl and absolutely yummy, of course.
The birthday celebration did not stop there. All week, the students had been asking me to help them write English cards for Ms. Priya and Ms. Vanisha and the denoument of their plans came on Friday. As Priya and I approached the room for her spoken English class after school, some of the girls in her class came running out. “No, madam, no!” They cried. “Outside game! Outside game!”
Priya looked dubious until the girls pulled me aside and said, “Madam, you can keep a secret?” I nodded. “We have a surprise for Ms. Priya and it is not ready yet.”
I looked at Priya. “Outside game?” She smiled and shrugged.
For ten minutes or so we played Kabardi, a game which the girls taught me that involves boundaries and tagging and dragging girls over a line… honestly I wasn’t that clear on the rules but it looked like they were having a good time.
All of a sudden, a call came from the closed doors to the classroom into the courtyard and the girls went running, shouting, “Ms. Priya, come, Ms. Priya, come!”
I grabbed the camera and followed them. What ensued can really best be described through a photo, and so I have provided one.
The boys said to me, “Move aside, move aside!” as they pulled the string on some party poppers which showered the entering Priya with golden glitter and filled the room with smoke. The students cheered and shouted, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY PRIYA TEACHER!” A cake had been brought by one of the students and the room was decorated with balloons which had been filled with candy and hung on strings. The cake was cut and the students insisted that the first piece come to me, so Priya obligingly fed me just as Jaydeepbhai had done.
Arms and fingers were digging into the rapidly cut cake and all were gesturing towards Ms. Priya’s mouth as she struggled to fit one piece of cake in her mouth after another as the students fed her. Oh god, she’s going to choke, I thought as I gleefully documented the whole thing through photographs with Priya’s camera. The students who were finished with Priya, however, were not satisfied and I suddenly found arms with hands
holding cake being thrust towards my own mouth. It was a short time before I myself was similarly overwhelmed. The students also added an additional element: they would wipe the remaining icing on their hands on your face after feeding you. Soon, my whole face was covered in a sugary coating of chocolate and vanilla.
All of a sudden, however, a hush fell over the room as if a dark cloud had covered the sun. I turned to see the principal standing in the doorway. He began to scold the students quickly in Gujarati and Priya and I looked at each other, somber and chastened. When he finished yelling, he turned to us and said kindly, “I have told them that they should not carry on in this way.” He then turned and left.
After his departure, there was an uncomfortable silence, but after such a sugar infusion, it was not long before the party was going in full force once again. We tried vainly to make the students be quiet, saying that “Sir” would come again if they did not get calm. The sugar was pumping through their vaisn and it was impossible, however, to calm them down. After finally getting them to sit down, a talent show was organized and a Hindi film sing along commenced. All in all, an enjoyable day.
Priya and I were still worried, however, about the reaction of the principal. During the Hindi sing-a-long, I was sent to speak with him. I approached the porch hesitantly, looking apologetic. “I’m so sorry,” I began. “We didn’t know the students had been planning such a big party.”
“It is okay, it is not your fault,” the principal said, smiling at me. His face then turned serious. “But, it is tradition here, we do not celebrate birthdays. Because, you see, some of the students, they are very poor, and they cannot bring anything and the rich students can bring. So, even my birthday we are not celebrating because of this thing.” I nodded. It was a very good point, and not one that had previously occurred to me. “Also,” he continued, “it does not make a good impression. If someone is coming by the school from the outside, and they are hearing this screaming and yelling, they will think, ‘this school has no discipline, there is nothing inside,’ and this will not be good for the school. So we must not have this and must have discipline.” I nodded again. Another very good point.
I apologized once more as I could hear the loud singing issuing from the door of the classroom and inwardly cringed a little. He had made two good points and I felt stupid for not having thought of them before. There was nothing I could have done to stop them, but still, it was hard to be caught in such insensitivity.
I think he saw my face, because once again he assured me that it was all right. “You did not know, it is okay,” he said, reassuringly.
I smiled and went back to the party. When I arrived at the door, it was just time to leave.
“One kiss, madam?” Some of the girls asked me as I arrived and they were leaving.
“Um…” Too late. They had already made a line and one by one, gave me a kiss on the cheek. I awkwardly accepted this affection before retreating to the safety of our house.
Happy Birthday indeed, Ms. Priya and Ms. Vanisha. Very cute.
Best,
Cat
My name is Prinkal. I am 15 years old. I live in Kadod. I study in 11th C. Science is my favorite subject. My mother’s name is Arunaben. My father’s name is Mukeshbhai.. I have one brother. My brother’s name is Nikunj. My brother is 12 years old. My father is a doctor. My mother is a nurse.
I am a girl. My name is Jinita. I am in standard 9. My favourite movies are Bal Ganesha, Hunuman and Harry Potter. My father’s name is Jivanbhai. He is a conductor. My mother’s name is Jayanaben. She is a nurse. My brother’s name is Gaurav. He is in standard 12 Science. My family is very happy.
A Visit to the Doctor's Office!
