Recently, a friend's son was invited to a birthday party. The invite was a mid-sized aquarium with four or five fish - live and swimming - that was delivered by a car and driver to all those invited. It was a pool party at a Delhi farmhouse - that's why the aquarium, in case you missed the point.
In the condominium where I lived for eight years, there was a set of twins whose birthdays were a much-awaited event every year. When the theme of the birthday was cricket, the invite would be a miniature-sized cricket bat with the invitation engraved on it; a soccer themed birthday invite would be printed on a specially designed small-sized football and so on. The invite every year included a driver's lunch pass as the birthday was one hour away at a farmhouse where the children would be for the better part of the day.
Then I happened to attend a friend's child's first birthday party at a farm. The birthday was a grand evening affair with valet parking, an endless long bar (where bartenders juggled bottles all through the evening), a large dance floor where some choreographed dances seemed on almost all through the evening and a games' and swings' section with a giant wheel and a large merry-go-round that had as many adults on it as children. The food, when it was served, was like at any wedding. There was an ear-splitting mistress of ceremonies giving everyone advice on what to do and when to do it. Despite her decibel level, the one-year-old incidentally slept through the evening - including during the cake cutting that was held well past midnight.
Then, a friend's daughter was recently invited to a "spa party". These are held at beauty parlours and spas - usually in the malls - and involve a manicure, pedicure, a blow dry of hair and so on. I was slightly surprised when I first heard this from a friend with a teenage daughter and then aghast when I heard of it from a mother whose daughter was all of seven! Seven-year-old and blow-dried hair?
These examples, of course, represent a minuscule percentage of people (not everyone in Delhi owns farmhouses), but in general birthdays - for those who can afford it - have catapulted into mini events quite unlike the time we grew up. I still recall our extremely simple, but fun-filled, birthdays where someone organised a cake, Coke, chips and some tasty home-made sandwiches. We played passing the parcel, musical chairs and hide-and-seek. Sometimes you had a balloonwala, and at times a candy-floss seller around. If it got extravagant, there would even be a tattoo maker, although that was rare. I still recall one birthday where a real elephant gave the kids rides. It was such an extraordinary thing to encounter that it remains etched in my mind even today.
I'm not saying things should not change; they will and they must and one has to keep up with the times, but when things begin to approach the bizarre, one must stop and think. I don't expect people to be content with Coke and chips but I'm not sure catering with three types of cuisines is the way to do it either.
Post liberalisation and a huge surge in several incomes, many parents - again a certain affluent set - seem to have lost perspective on what is sensible and what is over the top. Often, I hear mothers exclaim that the return gift at a party was more expensive than the gift they had sent.
When I once asked a friend - hosting one such event - whether she felt it seemed excessive, she sighed and said that it was "just this once". She wanted her five-year-old to remember his fifth birthday. I refrained from telling her that all he would remember was tearing those gigantic, perfectly packed presents and the excitement of finding out what was inside. The rest was, in fact, pretty forgettable and would be forgotten a few days later.
I understand that money to some seems to be of little value but have they stopped to think whether this is really the best they can do. If you raise the bar beyond a point, you will find it impossible to reach it yourself and even if you do, will it make you - or them - happy? I'm not sure it will.
anjulibhargava@gmail.com
