Sunil and Sadhana are still young. At home, even in their butterfly games, cakes play a role. They study in a private school. Along with their parents’ love, they also have the companionship of their grandmother, who is a storyteller, teacher, newspaper reader, photographer, and commentator. Both are bright in their studies. Their mother works at a bank, and their father is a teacher.
Sadhana is older than Sunil. In the annual calendar
brought by her father, she has circled the dates of birthdays—grandmother’s,
brother’s, mine, mother’s… At school, she has written them in order in the
class monitor’s diary. Her brother’s birthday has a special mark, which only
she and her brother seem to understand.
One day, when father returned from school, both siblings
were sitting in grandmother’s lap, chatting. Grandmother was telling stories.
The children were enjoying the folk tales. They even made critical comments
about the characters and their actions. Grandmother, however, was absorbed more
in storytelling than in commentary.
Mother’s birthday was celebrated by the bank. At home,
some simple delicious food was prepared. But who can resist the children’s
insistence? They brought a cake. Candles were lit. Blown out. Songs were sung.
They danced. They rejoiced. For two or three days, this became the topic of
conversation.
“Mother, we must celebrate brother’s birthday with great
excitement,” Sadhana said. Plans were made. Before father returned from school,
all preparations were completed. Guests arrived. The children brought a cake.
Candles were lit. Blown out. Songs were sung. They danced. They rejoiced. They
ate food—and it was over.
“Your father’s birthday is coming. What preparations are
there, dear?” grandmother asked. Sunil came running and whispered, “It’s ready,
grandmother, don’t speak loudly. Otherwise father won’t agree. Sister, cakes
are delicious, aren’t they? Why not cut a cake on father’s birthday too?” The
matter was hushed. Everyone went back to their own work. As usual, they
returned home in the evening.
When Sadhana’s father was sitting inside, the children’s
activity outside grew louder. It wasn’t their usual playfulness. Outside,
everything was already arranged for cake cutting. “Who did this?” he asked,
directing the question toward his wife and daughter. Silence fell for a moment.
Grandmother cleared her throat to speak.
“Recently, my old-age allowance came. The children didn’t
listen. My daughter-in-law didn’t listen either. So I myself went with my
grandson and brought it. What’s the problem? Everyone’s birthday is celebrated.
Why not yours, son? How can a birthday be celebrated without cutting a cake?
Tell me, Sadhana?”
She turned to her mother and said, “Then, on father’s
death anniversary, instead of offering Pindas, let’s cut a cake too, mother.”
