Sweet Sixteen

I have looked forward to Ponnu’s 16th birthday ever since she turned 15. To me 16 is a milestone. A coming of age. A time to acknowledge that my child is an adult.

For months before her 16th birthday, I spent the gaps in a day when I could just be, wondering how I could make this day special.

I wanted to give her 16 bouquets, one for each year of her life. Accompanying each bouquet was a card, signed by her father and me, and a toy associated with that age. It was an arduous process getting cards for every birthday. I had no idea that most greeting card companies have special cards for just some birthdays like one, two, three, five, et al and not for every birthday that a child celebrates. After scouring many card shops, I decided to do it my way. So I began, what seems laughable now, counting out the pictures on the cards. For the fourth birthday card for instance, I went looking amongst the pile of cards in shops for pictures associated with children of that age. Either four balloons or four red coloured balls and did that for each age that did not have a birthday card to celebrate it. I got some quizzical, some funny glances from the sales guys at the shops as I went about counting pictures on birthday cards!

The next trip was to the florist to tell him how to deliver the bouquets. “You take just one bouquet at a time. After the first bouquet, wait for five minutes and then go upstairs and give the next one.” Luckily for me, the florist caught on to my idea and smiled a lot as I went about giving the instructions.

I ordered for a big cake that pronounced her age. I can still see myself walk down that road a few years ago, visiting many card shops, going about buying gifts and talking to the florist. It was so much fun.

Ponnu’s father could not contain his amusement at my enthusiasm. “Why are you making me sign so many cards,” he asked. A 16th birthday is momentous, I said, and we must make it memorable. He sat down to sign each of the 16 cards.

Ponnu was delighted with the many bouquets. When the first one arrived, she was surprised to read the card with it that said, Now You Are One Year Old. When the next bouquet arrived after five minutes, she realized the game plan. By the fourth bouquet, she decided to leave the door open and smiled at the florist come up the stairs and go down back again to get another bouquet.

Ponnu called me up and said the living room was transformed into a florist shop. I can recall the incredulous laughter in her voice, as I think back to that day. Her face splitting smile when I walked in, hugging her father, and showing off the various bouquets to her grandparents is vividly etched in memory. When the cake was being cut, I looked at my precious child, who was now a young lady.

With all the happiness, my mind threw a shadow. My daughter would soon be leaving home for studies, getting a job and then eventually get married. Ah, life!