Years ago, I was invited to a birthday of a one year old child. I reached on time as I did not know many people there. I wanted not to get lost in the crowd!
The baby looked adorable, her hair ponytail-ed and her dress dazzling in light pink. The cake was brought in, and it covered the entire breadth of the table. I was amazed at the efforts put behind baking it! The cake was vanilla flavored with chocolate flakes at the bottom. Written '1' over the top, the most attractive part was the baby built out of cream, which sat atop the white cake. The cream was pink, just like the dress the birthday girl wore! It looked beautiful, and became the talk of the crowd till the cake was served!
The cake-cutting took place shortly after everyone took snapshots of the cake with the birthday baby. We sang and wished, and sat down to get the slices of the cake on our plates.
Everything was okay until an old man, dressed in brown, shouted out of nowhere, "Just wait, everyone! I shall eat the baby! Don't any of you dare touch her?"
His tone of speech carried utter ruthlessness, and all of a sudden, there was pin drop silence! The audience was dumbstruck! The parents and the children looked scared! I could hear a kid adjusting his birthday hat on his head: that was the level of silence, I mean!
Meanwhile, I could hear someone hustling his way through the crowd. Almost obvious, I saw the old man pushing himself through and hurrying to the table where the mother stood with her birthday child. On reaching the table, he picked up a fork! The child's father beside prepared himself to arrest the senior's next move! The old man looked at the baby with the shining fork in his hand, and spooned the baby-shaped cream of the cake on his plate! He walked back, as if nothing much had happened!
We sighed relief!
I wished the baby a non-violent, non-cannibalistic first birthday, and asked her mother to tell her of this when she would grow up! Because, that day, it was an insignificant event for her, but years later, that same story would throw herself into the laughter chair! Ain't it?
I wished the baby a non-violent, non-cannibalistic first birthday, and asked her mother to tell her of this when she would grow up! Because, that day, it was an insignificant event for her, but years later, that same story would throw herself into the laughter chair! Ain't it?
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