The birthday that was - the uncut version

Roughly two months back, on an utterly ordinary evening, in a particularly inspired moment, I had sent out a message on my favorite WhatsApp group – a group with us few women sharing a common thread with Buffalo. And although with new commitments, we set off on different paths, the warmth of friendship nurtured through the cold months of Buffalo, was carried forward over this group. The message was an invitation to my daughter’s second birthday, and to make sure the invitation was received with the same eagerness with which it was extended, I had thrown in the temptation of a trip to Miami, if they cared to show up. That trip to Miami never happened, but they came anyway. And a tide of effervescence swept across our lives and reached every corner of our hearts, from the time these women, and the men folk too, joined us for our girl’s special day.

But only if things were as smooth and simple as it came off sounding. Particularly not, when friends are scattered across different cities, and have to work out dates around their busy lives, which translated to chaotic planning over the phone. And hence, to work out a method to the madness, a WhatsApp group was promptly created. And with that, any last vestige of intelligible conversation was put indefinitely on hold. Because, one could only get so far, when the discussions ranged from one’s sartorial preferences (over other things), to another’s concern with a certain ‘Game of Thrones’ episode, to another’s work pressure, to anything anyone fancied, but the ‘planning’, which was the sole purpose of the group. Hence in hindside, I am just grateful that the stars finally aligned, the clouds parted, and this scattered lot, with even more scattered ideas, landed just in time for the day. 

But from the day their visit was confirmed, till the day they finally arrived, as you would know it, the ‘Monica’ (as enquired by a friend) in me, was doing overtime. My phone’s battery would run out faster than ever with me raging down to-do lists on my phone’s Notes. From creating more room to accommodate everyone in the house, to acquiring air-beds and mattresses, to stocking up food and water, to sprucing up the place in between picking after toys and tantrums, to fixing meals, the tasks saw no end. And inflicting more pain upon myself, I quite uncharacteristically, turned up for most social events, even the ones we had a choice to pass. And this turned out to be the sole reason for the last-minute fixes which I could have so done without. But I must admit, the thrill of boarding the last train was a great high, and putting the welcome note on the main door, practically split seconds before the first guests arrived, was insanely exciting. Although in the two-seconds break I managed to steal to straighten my weary back, I had made a solemn promise of never losing touch with myself, ever again. And with that, as the guests started pouring in, the house echoed into the familiarity of a happy commotion, as suitcases settled in corners, and friends picked up from where they never left. And the balmy August night played perfect host to this bonhomie.

We had half a day to spare before the day of the Birthday party. Hence the next day towards evening, battling fatigue, and the infamous Florida rain that was hammering down in its most notorious way, we headed to the Clear water beach – the pride, and the saving grace of Tampa. But the rain thwarted any last desire to witness the glorious sunset from pier 60 which was the sole motive of the drive. Failing to catch any major activity on either the horizon, or the beach, we huddled inside a seafood joint and spent the rest of the evening juggling between food and conversations, and me with crayons, to keep the kid occupied. While another guest joined us straight from the airport. Although a fat dinner is known to induce lethargy and sleep, not quite, when ‘poker’ was in the agenda soon after we returned. And the supreme guardian of the ‘Game of Poker’, dear husband, saw to it that the game was treated with the same reverence with which he has been treating it, and earning a steady ill-reputation. And as the men and the ladies settled down for a game of Poker, I grabbed my favorite blankie, and collecting myself on my favorite spot, did what I do best – watch. As they continue with the usual ribbing and jibes.

The next morning was the birthday morning. And it was also the morning when I survived a fatal heart damage when the husband hurled me out of the bed like a maniac, and leapt out of bed himself, when he saw a baffling number of missed calls from the hotel which was the venue for the birthday. The manager was asked to inform us as soon as they were open so that we could spruce up the place and make it birthday-party ready. But when Poker pushed sleep to the wee hours of the morning, birthday plans had to go for a toss. And when our eyes reluctantly opened, it was close to 11 am. Making a dash to the rest room, and hissing and cursing at himself, he got hold of all the decor items that were arranged in various boxes and labelled (ahem!), and taking three trusted people, who can very well run an event company of their own, vanished in thin air.

But this is not how things were supposed to go as per the original plan. Besides the venue, food, photographer, cake, dress and accessories, we had a decor team in place too. Who, after raising our hopes to a record high, came back at the last minute, and slumped the most annoying, ‘due to unforeseen circumstances’, and left us in a lurch. But hold your horses. Before you put two and two together, and decide on the emotional turbulence the news might have caused me, you, my friend, is gravely mistaken. This new person that is talking to you, this one has long left her fastidiousness way behind her. Falling back on Plan B is her new thing. And hence, she landed firmly on her feet even at the face of such depravity. She flicked her hair, twitched her neck, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, and together with her partner in distress, summoned the messiah of the 21^st century *drumrolls* – Amazon. And together they shopped the shit out of it. And once satisfied, depended on prayers, for timely delivery of the stuff. And since they already blindly clambered on the ‘theme and color’ train, they picked the ‘Peppa Pig’ decor items (the character their girl is hooked to), and settled for a pink and gold color palette. This was their brief to the decorators too, and when the task fell upon them, they groaned under the weight of the overwhelming amount of work. And at once, bid bye to elegant drapes and balloon arches, and shook hands with kitschy DIY decor.

In the next one week, till the birthday, the stuff started coming in, and each knock at the door, each trip to the mail box, would get my heart racing. And out would come one item after the other. Since pictures from the event are more important than the real event in the post social-media scenario, a photo booth (O dear lord!) became almost inevitable (After all, how does one look ‘hot’ or ‘sexy’ or even ‘yummy’, without the props saying it for them?) And that’s exactly how I ate my words about never indulging into things like such and what not. And even went on to break the rules a little, and in my attempt to customize the props, lost few good nights’ sleep to put together a half-decent photo booth.

While giving the bats and the owls of the world company, as my pair of scissors would give shape to my ideas, a part of me would yearn for the simpler, the un-demanding birthdays of yore. Much like our lives then. When home-cooked food and home-baked cakes would do just fine. When year after year, the same streamers would miraculously re-appear, and hug the walls of our living-rooms. And even then, the fun would not be compromised. My aunt would whip-up some of the most memorable cakes for us, in the shape of a rabbit, a cat, a flower basket. A far cry from the snooty fondant-laden cakes that seem to have become the thing today. Hence, when my girl walked up and down around the cake, going, ‘Peppa, Peppa’ with excitement, it was almost a consolation for our efforts.

But it was not all hard work and no play affair, this.  And with that, we have arrived at the most notorious part of the event - the ‘getting ready’ bit. O. MY. GOD. (borrowing my girl’s favorite phrase), it’s incredulous, how much can one procrastinate, and delay things. Therefore, the night before the birthday, I summoned my most military face, and announced in my most commanding voice, that, anybody failing to arrive in time at the venue the following day would have to face serious consequences. And maintained a pretty straight face throughout the delivery. I think. And the next day when I woke up at 11 am, after everybody else had woken up, I wanted to dig the proverbial hole, as quickly and widely as possible, lest someone barged in with accusing glances. Guilt-ridden, when I came out of my room, I darted aimlessly, mostly to dodge eye contacts, and managed to drop an entire tray of knick-knacks! Which instantly broke the ice, besides breaking other items.

As I got on with the flow of the day, the decor team was decking up the hall, and me, and a special guest – a friend’s mom and savior, prepared lunch for everyone, and waited for the whole bunch to return, who had skittered across the city on various pretexts. Once lunch was done, and failing to force-sleep the birthday girl after numerous attempts, we started to get ready. And slowly and steadily, the house began to submerge under a sea of beauty products - hair blowers, hair straighteners, pins, clips, foundations, powders, lipsticks, liners, things-I-don’t-know-names-of, mascaras, discarded dresses, glimmering jewelry, a puff here, a whiff there, a frown here, a satisfied glance there, and it went on like an unending saga. And the chaos that had settled in, brought with it an odd happiness that surged and reached every corner. While the women didn’t have a moment to spare, the men folk nervously maintained that, they would wait for the tension to subside, because all they need to do is throw on a shirt and head out. And to think that I fell for that claim!

Once the first batch was ready, and we drove to the venue, miss birthday girl, dressed in her fine clothes, was partially dozing off. And on arrival, she had to be carefully balanced on my arms, as my high-heels were put to test that evening. When I walked into the venue, I was pleasantly surprised by the feat these guys had pulled off in such a short duration. And few minutes after our arrival, entered the legend of tardiness, who had set a record by arriving on time, thanks to blatant lies about the actual time of the event. Slowly the other guests started to fill the hall, and the last time I had felt a similar kind of tingle in my tummy was at my brother’s wedding. And the rest of the evening, as you can guess, was spent doing the usual shebang around a birthday party.

We have so many reasons to cherish the memories of this birthday in the years to come. But most of all, for how it became a pretext to reunite friends. Which is why my fondest memories from this day would be the ‘before and the after’, the ‘behind-the-scenes’, the ‘rough cut’ of the celebration. The ones the camera fails to capture, but the heart forever treasures.