Let them eat cake

Today, The Dude turns *beep*.

Ok, fine, it’s his birthday. We shouldn’t be concentrating on numbers and other such nuances now, should we? So we stick to wishing him a very Happy Birthday.

We brought it in a half hour early, at 11 30 PM, because that was how long I could convince him to stay up for cutting the cake. Now we have this whole ‘Surprise’ cake cutting every year, for our birthdays and anniversaries. The quotes are justified by the fact that this was in fact, every year. The logistical arrangements were managed by my brother in law. You only had to tell him what flavor, and that too became redundant once the picks were known, and he would get them on time.

But as time passed, the surprise bit went deeper into quotes. By default, we would know there was going to be cake. In fact, The Dude for my birthday, started doing a pre-drama of ‘Do we have to do this anymore’ to ensure that I was worked up enough and actually at least a bit surprised when the cake arrived. It worked too, I think once. And then we ran out of ideas.

The last I remember is our anniversary, where my Mother-in-law asked my Brother-in-law to pick up the cake, and he walked to our room and asked us if we wanted anything from outside, since he was anyway going to get our ‘Surprise’ Cake. And I thought the concept of a surprise couldn’t evolve further

Yesterday, it did, like the Dude said. So I was supposed to pick up the cake on my way back from work. I knew The Dude was home early thanks to Lord Ganesha. I managed to leave an hour earlier than my usual time, and was met with villainous glares from those in the team who had to stay back. But I had good reason.

I walked down to the bike stand, while rummaging my bag for the key. It wasn’t there. It happens with me often, so I was convinced it would still on the bike. It wasn’t. After a panic stricken 10 minute search I called the Dude and asked him to get me the spare. He did. I then asked him to carry on and that I would follow.

‘Why?’ He asked.

‘I have some work’.

‘What Work?’

‘Something.’

Now at this point, I knew that he knew that I wanted to pick up cake. But he wanted me to say it. So I did. And then he did a bit of a coy drama on what was the point. Anyway, I finally asked him to go ahead and said I will get the cake.

But no sir. If that’s how our life worked, wouldn’t we be, well, we would be in the same position, so scratch that. He slowed down the car mid-way and said, ‘let’s try the new cake place; we can walk to there after parking the vehicles.’

I agreed. We went home, parked, he again did a drama of ‘Let’s cut the choco-pie at home’ and I threatened him saying I would order cake from some fancy delivery place which would cost a helluva more and we finally walked to the ‘Bakers Basket’ and got what was available.

And, he swiped the card. So basically, he bought his own ‘surprise birthday cake’. And he has mentioned it a couple of times despairing what the world has come to, if the birthday boy is made to pay for his own cake. I think he believes this is how far it can go.

And just to prove him wrong, I am thinking I will already put a reminder on his phone for next year

“Order and pick up your birthday cake. Check what flavor with the wife”

Come to think of it,  that might actually bring back some bit of the surprise.