Many happy returns of the day, from Jaipur

“Many happy returns of the day”, my tour guide said when he found out it was my birthday.

I thanked him and marvelled how this expression has not changed in at least 30 years. My grandfather used to sign the birthday cards and letters he dutifully sent from India the same way. How I would love to receive another birthday card from him, but it’s been 3 years since he passed away.

Birthdays have always been important to me. I don't care much about other celebrations like Thanksgiving or Christmas, but birthdays hold a special place in my heart. I tend to remember birthdays of family members and close friends. I make an effort to wish them a happy birthday, if not present them with a gift or other gesture of affection. My birthday, being a week before Halloween is most sacred. I remember the traditional Halloween birthday parties I had until I was 13. My parents would invite my friends and my brother’s friends and we would all dress up in Halloween costumes. I remember being somewhat controlling, even back then. I wanted my birthday to be perfect and I would do everything I thought would make it so. I would create games that my guests and I would play, preparing for them studiously. I would hound my mother for the perfect selection of snacks. I would spend hours decorating the basement the way I wanted. But as the party unfolded, nothing went as I imagined. The guests grew bored of my carefully constructed games. They devoured my snacks and made an intolerable mess. They destroyed my delicate decorations. I was upset that I couldn't control the chaos. I would cry afterwards, lamenting about how my party was ruined. Eventually my circle of friends dwindled and the birthday parties went with them. As an adult I usually celebrate my birthday with dinner at my parents. My birthday spent in India broke the mold.

In 2011 I was on tour in India at the time of Diwali, the Hindu festival of lights. It also happened to be my birthday. On that day I found myself in Jaipur, the second major destination in a whirlwind two-week tour. Jaipur is known as the Pink City because many building facades have a faint pink colour. Back in the 1800s important buildings and monuments were painted pink as a welcome for visiting British royalty. The colour and the name Pink City stuck.

Jaipur is indeed beautiful and not just because it’s pink. If I close my eyes and picture Jaipur in my mind’s eye, I remember the largest bazaar best. It was full of exotic sights, sounds and smells, not to mention people! Walking through the bazaar on the night before the major Diwali celebration was my most crowded walking experience in India. Merchants were trying hard to sell their wares, pushing beautiful material, jewelry and spices towards me and my traveling companions. I remember the colours — rich, deep jewel tones of purple and green and of course, pink. How I wanted to stop and look and feel. But we were driven forward by our tour leader, on a mission to guide us through the bazaar unscathed. His pace was frighteningly fast. I worried that I wouldn't be able to keep up…

Eventually we stopped at a sweet shop. The smell of sugar and rosewater was enticing. I knew that if I couldn't have birthday cake that day, fresh Indian sweets would be a good substitute. I asked for a box of assorted treats. I don't like Indian sweets as a general rule, but I figured they would be different when purchased from a reputable sweet shop in India. They were marvelous!

Dinner later that evening was delicious as well. We were in Northern India, but the restaurant my tour guide chose had all sorts of dishes, including South Indian fare that I'm especially fond of. I stuffed myself with delicious dosa thinking of the birthday dinners my mother had prepared for me over the years. I loved my mother’s cooking, but good Indian food in India came a pretty close second.

As it was Diwali, there would be fireworks behind our hotel that night. I couldn't think of a better way to top off what was quickly becoming one of the best birthdays of my life. I've always loved fireworks. As a child growing up in Toronto one of my first memories was of attending our neighbourhood Victoria Day celebrations. My first fireworks were small, held in a local park, but spectacular all the same. As an adult I remember visiting Little India in Toronto during Diwali. I delighted at watching children play with sparklers, just as my brother and I had years ago. Fireworks fill me with wonder and bring out my inner child. I hoped that they would do the same that night in Jaipur.

The hotel fireworks were a local affair to be held in the backyard. I recall thinking that the proximity of our chairs to the display would not have passed Toronto’s fire code, but I felt safe. Our tour guide was vigilant. If there was an issue, he would be on top of it. So I relaxed into my chair and waiting for the main event with my fellow travelers. We oohed and aahed as the show began, clapping at the larger displays of light and sound. There was no musical accompaniment as there sometimes is in Toronto, but that didn't matter. I could hear music in my mind’s ear. I reflected on getting older, but decided to enjoy the moment; I would may not be in India for my birthday again.

Suddenly, the phantom music in my ears was replaced by actual screaming. The fireworks stopped and the screaming grew louder. Patrons raced out of the hotel. Our tour guide appeared and herded us towards the courtyard. He conducted a head count and noticed that someone was missing. We asked what was going on and he revealed that there was a fire in our hotel! We were shocked. Could the fireworks have caused it? Before we could ask our tour guide for details, he disappeared. We discussed the situation with other hotel patrons. Where were the fire trucks? Someone told us they had been called, but it would be a while. The hotel staff was dealing with the fire themselves for now. We worried about the missing traveler in our group. Was she still inside the hotel? It was not visibly burning from the outside, but who can say what was going on inside? We felt helpless. My birthday had dissolved into chaos yet again!

What seemed like hours later, but was only about 30 minutes later, fire trucks arrived and began their work. Our tour guide and missing traveler emerged and revealed that the fire started from a lit cigarette on a hotel bed and had nothing to do with the fireworks. The fire was contained on one floor where several of our hotel rooms were, including mine. However the fire had not spread nor had it resulted in any injury. I felt a profound sense of relief and gratitude. My birthday was not perfect; it had its ups and downs, but I came out unscathed.