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Yellow Strawberries — Part 5: Zorro’s Birthday

July 14, 2024 | By

It’s the day they have all been waiting for — the Doting Dad, the Multitasking Mom, the hyperactive Jhilik and her unruffled sister Riya. It’s the day the Earth spins ultra-fast and pandemonium reigns supreme. It is Zorro’s birthday!

Yellow Strawberries is a candid and sweet anthology of short stories about doting parents and their two little daughters in today’s tech-driven age.

ZORRO BIRTHDAY Yellow Strawberries Part-5 Short Story - Prosenjit (LnC)

“Papa, Papa… How many candles shall we put on Zorro’s cake?” asked my 5-year-old daughter Riya excitedly as she toddled inside the room holding a dozen tiny candles in her tiny palms.

Today is a day like no other. Today is the day everyone in my family goes bonkers. Today is the day the Earth rotates ultra fast and time moves at supersonic speed. Today is the day all hell breaks loose and nobody gets blamed for that.

Today is our beloved pet Zorro’s birthday! His eighth.

Nobody knows for sure when Zorro was born, even though his papers do mention a date of birth as per norms. But we have always celebrated his birthday on the date he joined our family – the 6th of July. And it has been 8 magical years since then.

Zorro is a dachshund. A pure-bred one. And as such, he is hyperactive and restless, always in the need for more exercise. His need usually gets fulfilled on 364 days of the year. But on his birthday, it’s his turn to rest and everybody else’s to get hyperactive as an exception.

“None, dear,” I turned to face Riya and cuddle her in my arms. “No candle on Zorro’s cake. He is scared of fire, remember? He won’t go near the cake if there is a candle burning nearby.”

“Like last year,” Riya recollected quickly. “He started barking and did not go near the cake.”

“Correct,” I replied. “So, no candle this year.”

“But how will he fulfil his wish if he does not blow the candle?” Riya asked crestfallen. “It’s his birthday and he should be able to make a wish.”

“Good point,” I understood the reason for her concern. “Why don’t you blow on the candle beforehand and make a wish on his behalf. Happy?”

“Me?” Riya’s face lit up at the prospect of making a wish on Zorro’s behalf. “Okay.”

“What will you wish for?” I asked playfully.

“An iPhone,” pat came her reply.

“What will Zorro need an iPhone for?” I asked, bewildered. “You are asking on his behalf, and not for yourself. Remember that.”

“I know,” Riya blurted out. “I will never get an iPhone. I wished for it on my birthdays last year and this year. Nothing happened. Let’s see if it comes true on Zorro’s birthday.”

“And assuming it comes true, how is it going to benefit Zorro?” I frowned.

“I will name the iPhone after Zorro,” Riya responded exuberantly. “It will have his pic on the display screen and his bark as ringtone.”

Chapter 1 – An Early Bird Catches the Worm

All birthdays are special. Especially when you have 2 kids at home. But the level of excitement and participation is exponentially higher in case of Zorro’s birthday. As if everyone wants to feel for him, feel like him, feel with him. Empathy draws them closer and pushes them into involvement.

For example, the responsibility of acting as the official videographer on Zorro’s birthday has been voluntarily taken up by my 10-year-old daughter Jhilik. She has been doing it for the last 2 years. She gets up early in the morning on the 6th of July and starts documenting every activity on her Mom’s phone. Every activity that takes place inside and outside the house. And then she uploads the videos on a cloud account named after Zorro at the end of the day.

This helps accomplish two important goals – recording the events of the day for posterity, and keeping herself busy and occupied. Jhilik, for lack of a better word, can be a ‘handful’ on her best days, and a ‘pain in the neck’ on her worst. But recording hundreds of videos on Zorro’s birthday keeps her on toes and on her best behaviour.

Usually.

“Catch it, catch it!” she came running from the kitchen at 8.30 AM and handed over something to my childhood friend Anindita who is a regular at my place and is the perennial guest-of-honour on Zorro’s birthdays. Anindita, fondly addressed as “Annie Aunty” by my daughters, stared at the objects just placed in her hand by Jhilik, and gasped in surprise.

Two piping hot samosas straight from the kitchen! Anindita was baffled.

“Stolen straight from the pan,” Jhilik boasted. “Hold them one in each hand, Annie Aunty.” She started taking pics and disappeared after a while.

Before long, my wife showed up in the living room with a wooden spatula in her hand. She looked slightly upset at the sight of those samosas resting on Anindita’s palms and began to look for our eldest.

“Where is she?” asked my wife angrily. “Stealing from the kitchen at 8.30 in the morning. Imagine what else she will be up to in the next 12 hours.”

“She has disappeared for now,” I tried to pacify her. “But I will ensure she does not enter the kitchen again.”

“Ever?” my wife raised her eyebrows.

“Not forever. Just for today,” I clarified. Better to promise less and deliver more than doing the opposite. That’s the secret to happy matrimony. I have turned it into an art. I promise so less that every action looks like an overachievement.

“Why did you do it?” Anindita admonished Jhilik the moment she turned up once my wife was gone. “I won’t eat them. You have stolen them, so you eat them.”

“They are not for eating,” Jhilik declared loudly. “They are for pics. I am looking for memorable moments to capture in my camera. The samosas in your palms are the perfect pic on a perfect day like this.”

“You stole from your Mamma just to click an interesting photo?” I was aghast. “Ask for her permission next time.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Jhilik danced her way out of the living room. “My friends will be arriving soon. The first one to arrive will get both the samosas.”

“Why?” asked Riya sitting on the couch in front of the TV holding the remote in her hand.

“Because the early bird always gets the worm,” Jhilik plonked herself on the couch beside her sister and tried to snatch the TV remote from her.

“No!” Riya resisted and grasped the remote with both her hands, turning her back to Jhilik.

“What no? Give me the remote,” demanded Jhilik.

“No, I was here first,” Riya yelled back.

“So what?” Jhilik made another attempt to snatch it.

“The early bird catches the worm,” Riya ran off with the TV remote onto the balcony while Jhilik kept sitting with a frustrated look on her face.

Chapter 2 – Birds Of The Same Feather Flock Together

One by one they turned up. Brightly dressed, bubbling with energy and parents in tow, Jhilik’s schoolmates started arriving 9.00 AM onwards to grace the occasion with their boundless energy and limitless affection for Zorro.

“Where is the ‘birthday boy’?”. “We want to take a group selfie with him”. “Where are the balloons? Where is the cake?” Their demands were endless and actions were spontaneous. Poor Zorro got overwhelmed by the excessive attention and the generous showering of gifts by so many kids and sat perplexed in a corner.

Riya’s friends turned up too. All aged five, they started arriving 9.30 AM onwards with parents and gifts. Pretty soon, half of the living room floor got filled up with gifts of all kinds — all neatly tied and decorated with ribbons, with some carrying birthday cards as well.

But the ‘birthday boy’ did not look excited at all. He hid himself behind that mini-mountain of gifts. Even though his love for children and aggressive behaviour towards visitors are legendary, none of that was on display today as the mighty Zorro craved peace and solitude in a house full of boisterous kids and adults.

But he found neither.

Surrounding him on either side sat the kids – the 5-year-olds on the left and the 10-year-olds on the right – with Jhilik roaming all over clicking snaps and recording videos like crazy. While someone hung a garland of balloons on Zorro’s neck, another put on a pair of fancy shades on his eyes. Yet another put on a tiara on his head that added to his discomfort.

Click to read all episodes of Yellow Strawberries

Yellow Strawberries – sweet stories of Gen Alpha and doting parents

Soon enough, these 2 groups began to compete with each other on who could pamper Zorro the most. Egged on by Jhilik, the 10-year-olds hugged and cuddled him repeatedly, leaving no room for the 5-year-olds, who somehow managed to tie a balloon on each of his ears and tried to feed him chocolate.

“Okay, enough. Give him some space. Make room for him to breathe,” I came to Zorro’s rescue. “You are going to smother him with love. Let him have his lunch in peace.”

“What about the cake? Aren’t we going to cut the cake before his lunch?” the kids yelled excitedly.

“Fine,” I replied. “Cake cutting first, followed by his lunch while you kids finish off the cake. Thereafter, it’s going to be your lunchtime.”

I figured Zorro will get some snooze time when the kids have their lunch. But I was wrong. While Jhilik and Riya together cut the cake, the other kids jumped in and smeared as much cake as they could on their faces. Worse, they smeared cake on Zorro’s face too.

Shaken and stirred, Zorro began to bark nervously. And I had to intervene and take him away to let him have his lunch in peace.

The living room turned into a mini battleground with cake smeared all over the table, plastic glasses and cups overturned on the floor, confetti strewn, balloons burst or floating aimlessly, and every kid trying to outdo the others in creating chaos and mayhem.

“You suck, we win,” screamed the 10-year-olds at the 5-year-olds, who, upset at the unfavourable outcome of the shouting match, decided to initiate a throwing match. They started throwing everything they could possibly lay their hands on at Jhilik’s friends, and parents of both groups had to hurriedly intervene to prevent the situation from escalating further.

“Kids will be kids,” doted one parent. “They will throw discipline out of the window if they are in a group.”

Try explaining that to Zorro, I thought. The pandemonium and ruckus are all very okay, but the ‘birthday boy’ does not understand that, does he? He gets nervous and agitated when there is disorder all around.

Is that how he is supposed to feel on his birthday?

Chapter 3 – Too Many Cooks Spoil The Broth

“This food is yummy,” remarked one parent admiringly while having lunch. Due to paucity of space, some had to be served lunch in the living room while the rest occupied the dining room.

“All credit goes to Mamma,” quipped Jhilik immediately, never missing an opportunity to praise her Mom. “She did it all by herself.”

“What about your Papa? Does he cook?” inquired the curious parent.

“Papa! And cooking!” Jhilik burst out in a fit of giggles. “He can barely boil an egg. His cooking skills are limited to making coffee and tea only.”

“Is that so?” the curious parent prodded on.

“Yes. But to his credit, he has been trying to learn cooking for many years now,” Jhilik responded with a straight face.

“So, what happened?”

“Well … he ended up either burning his fingers or the food,” Jhilik roared in laughter this time while I smiled in embarrassment.

“Actually, it’s true,” I decided to salvage whatever remained of my pride and reputation. “Cooking is not just about practice. It is also about understanding the concept. I have practiced vigorously but never been able to grasp the concept.”

“The concept of …. ?” another parent asked curiously.

“The concept of flame intensity, for example. How high should the temperature be?” I clarified. “Every food item needs a different temperature for cooking which I have not been able to master all these years.”

“As a result, burnt food and burnt fingers,” Jhilik chuckled mischievously. “And he is happy to let Mamma do all the cooking. He says, ‘too many cooks will spoil the broth’.”

“I have no shame in admitting this,” I confessed. “I may end up meeting an alien someday, or venture into outer space and may even discover a new planet. But I will never become a good cook.”

A hearty round of laughter reverberated across the room. And that encouraged Jhilik further.

“Cooking is not the only concept that eludes Papa,” she chipped in next. “He is zero in Tech, too.”

“Tech? As in?” asked the curious parent again.

“Tech as in smartphone tech. Or smartwatch. Or tablets. Papa does not understand it at all. Least of all, social media,” Jhilik relished in disclosing my shortcomings publicly.

“Is that why you avoid social media so much?” asked another curious guest staring directly at me.

“No, not because of that reason ….” I fumbled for words. “I do not like the concept itself. My lack of technical prowess has nothing to do with it.”

“And we are rushing into the age of AI,” prophesied Jhilik smugly. “How will you catch up if you feel intimidated by social media and smartwatches?”

“Artificial Intelligence is not for me,” I replied dismissively. “The only thing that human beings are supposed to be best at is in the ability to Think. If we outsource our ‘thinking’ to AI, then what will we be left to do?”

“Nothing!” exclaimed Jhilik. “Isn’t that what technology is for? To help humans do nothing while machines do everything?”

Chapter 4 – All Is Well That Ends Well

Post lunch, there was a clamour among the kids to watch a movie. While many names were thrown around as possible contenders, I recommended something radically different.

“How about we watch Zorro’s birthday tapes from previous years instead of watching a movie?” I proposed. A huge cheer immediately greeted the offer and Jhilik began to play 6-year-old recordings of Zorro’s birthday bash.

“Wow! Zorro was so small then!” quipped Jhilik in surprise.

“So were you,” responded Riya.

“You were not even born,” retorted Jhilik. “Look who is talking.”

Just then Zorro started barking at the TV screen. Riya hugged him and said, “That’s you on the screen. Not another dog. Why are you barking?”

Zorro probably understood what Riya told him, or he was able to recognise and remember Jhilik from 6 years ago. He stopped barking and began to wag his tail rapidly.

One by one, we went through all video files of previous birthdays. Every moment of Zorro growing up has been captured on camera over the years. Along with those of my daughters, too.

“How time flies,” my wife remarked emotionally. “Feels like yesterday he joined our family.”

Does Zorro feel it too? I wondered. Do dogs feel nostalgic like us? Do they need props like video recordings, or do they have memory flashes like pictures on a TV screen?

“That is what AI should be for,” I told Zorro while stroking his neck. “To get inside your brain and tell me what your ‘woof’ means. Whether you are happy or sad. Whether you remember the past or not. Artificial Intelligence should be doing this work – decoding animal languages and brain activities – instead of doing ‘my work’ like reading and writing.”

“Woof!” Zorro responded as if in agreement.

Chapter 5 – What’s Done Is Done

As dusk settled in, the kids and their parents began to depart one by one. The frantic activities of the day came to an abrupt end. The whole apartment felt eerily empty and quiet after 8.00 PM.

That’s when Zorro suddenly woke up. As if reenergised with some magic pill, he kept pointing at the door and tugged at my pants with his teeth. It was evident he wanted to go out for a walk. Or his daily run.

I made him wear his leash and left the apartment for the neighbourhood park. Today, Zorro was quiet as a mouse. He did not bark at the other dogs. He did not scare other people.

Instead, he kept running in circles around me. Again and again. I had to let go of his leash; he was running so fast that I started feeling giddy, trying to match his speed. He was not interested in fetching a ball either, like most days. He simply ran and ran. In circles around me.

“Your dog looks very relaxed today,” one of my neighbours, also walking her dog in the park, remarked. “Happy, but not excited.”

“How could you tell?” I was curious to know.

“Running in circles means he is getting rid of his nervous energy. It is also known as “zoomies”. It is usually caused by a build-up of excess energy, which is then released in one short burst. Like running in circles for a limited period of time.”

Really! I have been walking Zorro for 8 years now. Didn’t know that.

“Have you guys ever noticed Zorro running in circles?” I asked both my daughters immediately upon my return home. “Running very fast, in circles?”

“Maybe,” replied Jhilik hesitantly. “Not sure. Can’t recollect. Why?”

“He gets rid of his nervous energy by doing that,” I shared my newly acquired knowledge with my daughters. “He should be doing it more often. It’s good for him.”

“Maybe he doesn’t get nervous most days,” my wife added. “Today he did because of so many guests.”

“But we had amazing fun, didn’t we?” gushed Jhilik. “I have never had more fun in a single day than I had today.”

“What about him?” I pointed at Zorro. “Did he have the same amount of fun? How can we be sure? What was fun for us could have been stressful for him.”

“What do you mean, Papa?” Jhilik frowned.

“Well, if he enjoyed the day as much as we did, why did he have a build-up of nervous energy in his system? And why did he have to run around in circles to release it?”

“Hmm. You mean …”

“I mean what is fun for us may not be fun for him. Maybe he does not need a crowd or a circus or cake or nonstop attention to make him happy on his birthday. He probably does not understand the concept of a birthday. Maybe all he wants, all he craves for, is a run in the park with you two. And a warm hug from me at bedtime. How about we do only that on his next birthday?”

—Concluded—

Yellow Strawberries Anthology of Short Stories

 Click here to read all episodes of Yellow Strawberries

More Must Read in LnC

Papa Scheherazade!

Let the Flowers Bloom!

An Unexpected Companion

The Battle of War and Peace

Prosenjit Purkait is a 22-year veteran of International Trade residing in Delhi and an amateur author. Now self-employed, he devotes considerable time to his first love — writing fiction. His passions include cinema, literature and book reviews.
All Posts of Prosenjit Purkait

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