Muthu was December-born. So invariably, his birthday fell in the Christmas holidays. This meant that Muthu could never go to school in a 'colour dress 'ever.
He had always wanted to be wished in school and distribute colourful mittais to his classmates.
Why could he not have a birthday party like in the movies? People would throng and wish him and sing for him. Usually, the teacher would make the birthday child stand in front of the whole class and everyone would sing Happy Birthday in a slow, dragging tone. When the claps came at the end, the birthday child would take a bow and give away the sweets. Birthdays, Muthu reflected, were important. He would receive lots of presents and he would have fun opening them. This year he was turning double digit - he was going to be ten. A decade old!
He hesitantly went up to his mother and asked, "Amma, can we celebrate my birthday?"
She smiled and said, "Of course!"
Muthu woke up in anticipation of a grand party on his birthday.
After the mandatory oil bath, his mother took him to the neighbourhood temple and Muthu asked God that he receive fabulous presents on his birthday.
He had brunch and devoured some of the crunchy, melt in the mouth adhirasams his mother had made. Rather reluctantly, he took some for his friends - Bala and Jones. After a match with his worn out bat, they said their byes and Muthu walked back home.
He wondered why his friends had not wished him. The griffins! They had eaten the adhirasams but did not even ask him why. How could they forget his birthday?
Anyway, his mother had promised a celebration - he was sure there would be balloons and festoons and a huge crowd waiting for him at home.
When he reached home, however, there were no signs of any decoration. No one was there but his family. Muthu's face fell. His mother had never let him down before.
To make things worse, his mother and sisters said they had to visit a relative and left!
