At the very beginning, let me salute every fond Mama or Papa who has gladly suffered their kids’ birthday parties year after year - armed with a grin and a jar of Tiger Balm.
For me, it has been the same old story
for the past 19 years... I have gotten all gung ho about celebrating the b'day of one or the other
of my kids. But as D-day/B-day came near, my gung-ho-ness levels had fallen rapidly...
and by the time the day had got over, I had been left wishing that I was elsewhere - maybe some
serene place where wild dogs were tearing me apart, or a slobbering monster was
boiling me in hot oil...
Because whenever I think ‘Kid’s Birthday
Party’, a nightmarish slideshow flashes through my head: I am surrounded by
about 253 open mouths – all yelling chaotically choreographed yells of ‘Auntie more
cake’, ‘Auntie juice’, ‘Auntie toilet’ or some such thing. There are kids
crawling out of the woodwork and tumbling out of every cupboard. And the noise!! 2-3 hours of non-stop, incredible decibel levels of NOISE! When the attack finally subsides,
I am left with confetti strewn all around, unsightly coke and food stains on
the sofa, maybe a few broken chairs or curtain rods... and of course, a bunch of
recycled gifts.
3 years ago, I almost swore off
kids’ parties of any type – after being under siege for more than 24 hours, by
my daughter and her two friends who had come to spend a day at our place. Back
then, I had come home from work to find that the three 9-year olds had massacred
half of my wardrobe and cosmetics, left 3 huge depressions on my bed after
having used it as a trampoline (WITH my high heeled shoes on, from the look of it), and used my best perfumes as air fresheners –
spraying them indiscriminately all over the house.
So last week, when Ananya asked
for a birthday party, I thought I would be smarter this time around, and take her
out with a handful of her friends. Minimise collateral damage and all that, you
know.
It was one of the MOST feather
brained ideas I could have come up with. When I had asked her if she wanted to
go for a movie with a few friends, the number I had in mind was 3, or maybe 4 kids. Gross miscalculation – I had neither factored in the pester power of
siblings nor Ananya’s generosity when it came to handing out invitations.
Saturday, 10th
November arrived. And so did the kids – all 10 of them. No last minute no-shows (as I had half hoped)!
After they had stuffed themselves
with home made namkeen and murukku (courtesy, my ma-in-law), loads of gooey chocolate cake and coke, we
left for the multiplex to catch a movie. We had barely reached our seats, when a
couple of kids piped up, ‘Auntie, Coke aur Popcorn?’ Of course! After all, it was all of 20 minutes since they had eaten! Rama (one of the parents who had accompanied me) and I shushed them, saying,
‘Later.’ But we knew we could not stall for too long.
And I learnt an important lesson
in life... the hard way. Never, EVER
take a gang of kids to watch a movie with a leitmotif of food... and farts.
Luv Shuv tey Chicken Khurana is an enjoyable movie... but NOT if you are
watching it with nearly a dozen kids seated in the row behind you. Everybody knows that kids turn into cola-and-popcorn-processing machines even while watching a regular movie - imagine what would happen in a movie where there is constant banter about food! And the less said about kids' affinity for fart jokes, the better.
Still, it was a novel experience! I don’t think I will ever again
watch a movie where every fifth line spoken by an actor is punctuated by a
dismembered voice muttering, ‘Auntie, khana kab aayega?’ behind me. And when I
was not experiencing some spectral being breathing down my neck (quite
literally), I was running outside to fetch water, or food, or haranguing the
assistant at the food stall outside to hurry up with the food and save my life!
Finally the movie ended. And it
was time for – what else, more food. This time around it was burger meals at a
fast food joint. When the kids were ordering, I was certain we were ordering
too much. 40 minutes later, looking at the cleaned up plates, I wondered if we
had ordered too little...
Anyway, the party finally ended
after dropping the kids back home. Ananya left to continue her party – at a
friend’s place. Just as I was about to change into my night clothes and fall upon the bed,
my son asked which movie we had been to. “Luv Shuv tey Chicken Khurana,” said
I. “Chicken! I miss chicken...,” said the lad, “Can we go out and get some...
now?”
It was 10.15 pm.
But it was no point trying to...
err... chicken out. There was to be no escape from food (and yes, chicken) for
me that day!
45 minutes later, we were at a
neighbourhood pub. As Amartya devoured chicken seekhs with gusto, I sat
sipping on some warm cognac, my brain in a ‘time out’ state.
It was peacetime - after a
one-day frenzied war. I felt content. The kids had enjoyed themselves to the
hilt. (And though I simply hate to admit it in public, I kind of had a good time too!) My daughter, of course, was thrilled to bits with the party.
And that, I guess, is why we Mamas and Papas of the world do it... over
and over again, every year. Sure, it’s a lot of effort... but ultimately, that’s
chicken feed when it's your child’s happiness at stake...
