The Birthday Ritual

A couple of days back my nephew celebrated his third birthday. Talking to him and hearing about his birthday party made me nostalgic about how birthdays were celebrated in our family when we were kids. There was a string of rituals that my mother had created around our birthdays that made those days so special.

My mother, who otherwise worked, would stay back at home that day. That itself made the day special. I could come home from school and ring the door bell and someone would open the door, instead of the everyday practice of turning the key and letting myself in. Mom would keep it a surprise. Never mention once that she is not going to work that day. Yet we (my brother and I) half knew and were half surprised by that. That is the beauty of 'rituals' - their recurring occurrence creates a quaint mix - the comfort of the known & the excitement of the unknown. 

The house we stayed in was in one corner of the building and therefore the area outside the main door to the house used to be pitch-dark. At that time, the lights in the building staircases would be turned on only after sun down. I would stand outside a few feet away from the main door....and stretch my arm out to reach the door bell. I couldn't see anything near my feel but I knew it would be there...the rangoli that mom would create at the door. When the door opened and lit up that part of the hallway I would see a semi-circular pattern of tiny white dots that combined to form the words 'happy birthday'. Careful not to spoil it, I take one giant step in. New curtains in the living room, a house that looked spick and span, fresh bed-sheets tightly tucked under the bed, the aroma of warm fresh food from the kitchen and a smiling mom to greet me - all these small rituals made me feel like I had stepped into a completely 'new' space and created an experience that was out of the ordinary.

Our family believed in giving each other birthday greeting card and gifts. As kids since we did not always have money in hand. Hiding away from my parents a night before their birthday or anniversary and making glittering hand-made cards was another birthday ritual . Two older cousins would, fight the rain and every year bring home a special hand-made cake for my brother on his birthday. They would reach home soaking wet but would protect the cake to bring it home unspoilt. What made the cake so special was of course their gesture but it was also their skill at making the most delightfully exquisite birthday cake any child would want - a chocolate house complete with a backyard full of flowers and swings to play with or a chocolate teddy laden with gems :) Another family friend who worked with my mom was kind enough to always send two gifts - one for me and my brother - no matter whose birthday it was.

As I recalled these rituals, these were so meaningful for me as a child and they still are. We have never been a ritualistic family and therefore I would always shy away from rituals as we know in the traditional sense. I would feel a little foolish if asked to partake in any festive ritual - I thought rituals have an inherent prescribed meaning that I ought to know. Not knowing it would make me look stupid and therefore I stayed away. I am not sure whether the prescribed meaning theory is true or not. Though I realize today after all these years that rituals also have an external meaning that we associate with them and ascribe to them. So, without worrying about what is right or wrong, whether it is mine or borrowed - going forth - I have decided to create my own string of rituals around special occasions. So that my family has something to look back and remember.