of times past

I’ve been looking through hundreds of old photographs recently and I’ve come across some really funny and interesting ones. I came away with a few insights, opinions and plain old facts from looking at times I have no memory of:

It seems I was a big fan of fancy dress parties which I suppose for some childhood trauma reason explains my utter dislike for them now. I went as Spiderman and Superman (for which mother and father dearest got suits specifically made for me), a pirate and a vampire. By my judgment, I think I look awesomely cute (and thin) as Spiderman and Superman. As a pirate, I was just beginning to look like a fat, annoying ten year old kid and as a vampire I was a fat, annoying 12 year old with toothpaste smeared all over my face and with fake fangs lodged into my mouth. I also had lipstick all over my mouth. This does not bring back good memories because I thought I looked awesome but my cousin who was dressed as an air stewardess (of course she was authentically marked with a tray of toffees) got short listed and I didn’t. Thankfully she didn’t win.

The Mirpuri household was no stranger to parties of any kind. All the kids got elaborate celebrations for their birthdays. They were characterized by lots of yummy food (think fish cutlets, marshmallows, cute sandwiches, fabulous Indian sweets, ribbon cake!!!!!!!), lots of kids we liked and disliked (but liked mostly because they came bearing presents) and lots and lots of adults trying to hone their skills in appearing interested in their kids while totally indulging themselves in gossip (among the aunties) and a little smattering of booze (among uncles). The best part of birthdays- and this I do remember- was when the cake was cut. This was a sacred moment for the Mirpuri’s because just before the birthday celebration, all of us used to get together and cut up crepe paper (in ALL the colours) and spread them out on the fan just above where the cake would be cut. So when the birthday boy/girl cut the cake and blew out the candle, the fan would be turned on and every single person, young, middle-aged and old would delight in the beautiful sensation of seeing a mini New Year’s celebration erupt in a crepe paper blizzard.

Ok wait a minute. Am I romanticizing? I am, I am. Fuck off.

On the subject of birthdays and birthday cakes, I’ve had several that might shock, impress or disgust. Through these photographs I realized that the Strawberry Shortcake Girl birthday cake I always thought was my sister’s was actually mine! What were my parents thinking? Perhaps I really liked her? Dear God. Thankfully it was not a Strawberry Shortcake Girl theme party. On the infinitely more macho side, my 8th was the best birthday ever. It was a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle theme party and around 120 people were invited. Only about 95-100 turned up and you should have seen the bed which was designated the receptacle for all the presents. Pure treasure! The cake was one of the Turtles (if this was MTV’s My Super Sixteen, I would have insisted on having 4 separate turtle cakes but seeing I was only 8, and not on the show, that request would surely have been met with an awkward silence and then a thundering slap). The decorations were all TMNT themed and made by my talented sister. I even had a piñata filled with all manner of sweets, rubber insects (which were the RAGE in 1992) and whistles bought wholesale from the then exciting and non-terrorized Pettah. Other cakes immortalized on fading hard copy photography (and now saved by the glory of the smart fix button) are a toy train and lots of cakes with peaches and/or strawberries on them.

There are two, strangely unembarrassing photographs of me being bathed naked at possibly age 1 or so. You can see everything. I must say, I was a very well endowed baby. Well among babies anyway. Not that I know anything about such standards. Such baths were usually carried out by our dearest granny a.k.a Bigmama a.k.a Bigma in a pink basin (bought from Phoenix where everyone who was anyone bought their plastic buckets from) with a cleaned out coconut shell. Ah the life.

That’s it for now but there are some memories I wish had been captured on camera. I wish there were some photos of me gargling after lunch while still being enthralled by the hindi movie on television, so much so, that instead of spitting into the bowl, I spit on my sister. I also wish there were pictures of my cry-baby face when sister dearest flung a glass of Sprite into my face for not giving her the correct message left by her friend. Oh, and I wish there were pictures of my mum’s reaction when, in a moment of utter brilliance, I unscrew the grills on the windows in the room she has locked me in coz I was being a pain in the arse and sneak out through the balcony into the shrine where she is praying and going…BOO and scaring the bejesus out of her.

I am so fucking glad that, as time goes by, I am left with nothing but good memories.