The Birthday Frock

The park reverberated with the screams and cries of the neighborhood children. The exercise equipment meant for the adults was taken over by the kids.  Whether their brittle bones could handle the stress of gym equipment was a matter of least consequence.

They giggled and raced each other as they did the squats and the waist turns and the push ups. The sun was inching towards his descent and the parents were getting impatient to take their kids home. But there was no sign of the games ending any time soon. I knew, slowly, the scene would change.

In less than half an hour, I would see mothers dragging their kids away from the swing and the slide. I would see fathers sternly ordering their kids to begin marching home-wards. But there was still time for all that.

As I sat there, watching the proceedings, I noticed two girls, playing in the sand, under the tree. The older one must have been around 11 and the younger around 8. The eight-year-old looked like the daughter of the labourer who was working in the building that was being constructed right across the park.

Just then, the mother of the older one walked in. The daughter saw her, ran to her and asked her if she had bought her birthday frock.

The girl’s birthdays fell a day apart.

The younger one wore the same birthday frock that the older one had worn for her previous birthday. She was on cloud nine.

The older one wore the new frock for a day, threw it on the floor once the party was over and forgot all about it. The novelty had already worn out for her. She was already making a list of what she wanted for her next birthday.

Her mother quietly picked up the Rs 3000/- frock from the floor, caressed it and mentally made a note of giving it away to the laborer's daughter for her next birthday.

Some children will be happy with used frocks and some not even with new ones. The joy that a new one brings to the face of the rich kid can never match the joy the poor kid feels even with old one.

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