My birthday was over a month ago, but still worth retelling the tale of how I ate four cakes in four days. Or, more precisely, how I cut four cakes in four days.
Cutting the cake, you might be asking yourself, isn’t this either a) only reserved for weddings or b) clearly such a mundane thing, that it is not worth my mentioning. Well, so I used to think.
At work, we celebrate every single person’s birthday. None of this monthly birthday celebration like we had at my old work (and for that I am somewhat glad J ) Each person gets their own day. And their own cake. Not only do they get their own cake, but they then have to cut a slice of the cake, and feed a bite to people (starting with the head of our office, followed by their boss, most favoured colleagues, etc). And of course they get fed bites back, and inevitably someone (usually my boss Nidhi) will smear the cake all over their face.
So as my birthday was approaching, I of course had seen this already and knew to expect it. However, this did not leave me prepared for it. Nor was I adequately prepared for all my cakes.
Cake 1: My actual birthday. It was on a Saturday night, and I had organized a small dinner/drinks at a restaurant in Khan Market called Watermellon. My cousins had taken me there before and it had a great terrace. I had invited a few work friends and some cousins (Rajan even drove out from Agra!) and the weather was in the 80s that day (lows in 60s), so we were all set for a pleasant evening. Food was great (mix of Italian, Mediterranean and Thai – distinct dishes, not weird fusion). The evening goes on, and all of a sudden they bring out two birthday cakes. They place both in front of me and light the candles.
I wait. No one is singing. I look around some more, wondering what people are waiting for, what cue I’m missing. I wait some more. Do they not sing? We always sing happy birthday at work. I wait some more. It’s getting awkward. At this point, however, the candles have burned quite low, and out of sheer fear that the cake is going to light on fire, I blow out the candles.
And then they sing happy birthday. Apparently its backwards than at home! But the most important part is yet to come. The cutting of the cake. Fortunately, we decide to save one cake for another day (both my cousin and a friend had brought cakes), so I only have to eat one cake. Then comes the feeding of the cake to people, bite by bite, always getting fed a bite back in return. By the time I’m done feeding people, I’m super full (10+ bites add up!), but of course I still have to have a piece of my own cake. It was however, delicious.
Cake 2: The next day, Sunday, we had a lunch party hosted by my three bhuas. About 5 of my cousins + their families came. Bhuas ordered south Indian food, which is always delicious. I wore Indian clothes. New year, new country, new look!
Eventually the cake part comes again. Before this I should add, I was given some birthday presents, including a bottle of champagne by my cousin Rajan. We did have an incidence with the cork flying off of its own accord. Couldn’t get bhuas to try any, sadly.
Back to the cake. This time I’m prepared. The lit the candles, I blew it out a few seconds later. Singing! Yes, I’m getting the hang of this.
On to the cake cutting. Rhea, the 5 year old I was living with at the time, had come to me earlier and asked if she could help me cut the cake. She was clearly going through some attention withdrawal, as on my actual birthday she had said to me “Karuna Bhua, did you know that it is almost my birthday?” So with Rhea holding my hands on a green plastic knife, we cut the cake. I did not, however, let her feed me/feed her the first bite, as cake cutting/feeding has a hierarchy to it. First, give a bit to bhuri bhua (eldest bhua), than to Didi Bhua, than to Vinod Bhua. Than to some of the kiddos, but also to all of my cousins. Nobody misses out!
Shivani (18) and Saloni (23), the grown up daughters of my oldest cousin Kiran, of course made me the cake, and smeared it all over my face and neck. A tradition not just reserved to my office apparently.
Cake 3: The next day was Monday, and what I have failed to mention so far, is that I wasn’t feeling super great over the weekend and by Sunday night it was apparent I had succumbed to the sore throat/fever virus I probably picked up on the metro. So Monday morning found me at home, and Monday afternoon found me sitting at the kitchen table with Ramona and Rhea, where Rhea reminded me that we had a cake in the fridge.
Now it being just the three of us, you would think we could just eat the cake.
Not a chance. Even with just the three of us, I had to cut the cake, Ramona wouldn’t dream of doing it for me on my birthday. And yes, we fed it to each other.
This was the best cake so far. From a great bakery called Sugar and Spice. Eggless too, didn’t know vegan could taste so good!
Funny side note. The co-worker who brought me the cake is one of my absolute favorite people. It was her birthday a few weeks ago and we took her out a few times—no such thing as too much celebrating here! She has a three year old daughter who, when my friend told her daughter it was her birthday and that she should wish her Mummy a happy birthday, replied “No, it is my birthday. You wish me. Where is my cake?” Three years old and already knows there should be cake!
Cake 4: Tuesday found me back at work, where of course there was the celebration that afternoon. All the co-workers gathered around, and I had to tell them the story about not blowing out my candles. And then they brought out the cake. Same one as the day before – yummy!
Again, I blew out the candles right away, they sang, and then I had to feed the office head a piece and my boss a piece, and then others. And, as expected, this being my first birthday in India, I was in for it.
Quite, simply, they made me the cake. Smeared cake all over my face. Into my hair. Down my neck. All into my necklace and down my shirt. Even on my arms!!
By the time I was able to clean up and come back out, the celebration was pretty much over. However, not so over that I didn’t have to sit down eat yet another piece of cake.
