His mother sat next to him. “Tired, baby?”
After the friends left, Chintu sat on the floor, exhausted but happy. He looked at his gifts: the car, a new cricket bat, a coloring book, and a shiny red bicycle from Dadi.
“Make a wish!” everyone screamed.
His mother, still sleepy, pulled him into a hug. “Happy Birthday, my little Sher Khan.” She had already decorated the living room with green and yellow balloons, cutouts of Mowgli and Baloo, and a large banner that read: Chintu Ka Birthday
His mother laughed and kissed his forehead. “Okay, Chintu. But first, let’s clean this jungle up.”
But the best moment was the cake. It was a large, three-tiered chocolate cake with a plastic Hathi (elephant) on top. When his mother lit the five candles (Chintu was turning five, going on fifteen), the room went dark.
Chintu closed his eyes. He thought really hard. What should I wish for? A video game? A bicycle? A pet dog? His mother sat next to him
Chintu nodded. But then he looked up at her. “Mummy, next year, I want a Space theme. And a real telescope.”
Chintu had been waiting for this day for exactly 365 days. Ever since his last birthday, when he had blown the candles off a small vanilla cake, he had been planning the next one.
He opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and blew. Poof. All five candles went out in one go. “Make a wish
Chintu Ka Birthday
That night, as Chintu fell asleep hugging the blue remote-control car, he smiled. Birthdays weren't about the cake or the gifts, really. They were about the noise, the mess, and the people who loved you anyway.
“Yay!” clapped Meera.