Sunday, August 18, 2013

happy birthday cake

every year on my birthday my mother baked me a cake. it was a simple pound cake with a hole in the middle, like an extra large ring or a big doughnut. i loved it. i preferred it to the cakes with icing and still do. occasionally she would also bake it at some random times during the year.

i remember some lady was visiting us, an auntie as we called all women visitors. my mom showed her our oven and the baking pan. it so happened that the pan still had the crust of the cake stuck to it. when i noticed that i took the opportunity to scrape it off and relish it. i really enjoyed the brown crust of the cake and did not understand how i could have left it.

later when the aunty had left, my mother reprimanded me for polishing off the left-over crust in front of our visitor. i could not have cared less, but it was a lesson in social etiquette. possibly my mother was embarrassed by my behavior, which to her indicated that i was just ravenous as it would seem that i was not fed enough. this of course was not true. i had enough and more to eat. most often more as i did not want to eat what was served. i hated vegetables those days. my preferred meal was rotis/chappatis with mango pickle. that is what i took in my lunch box most days and at home i added lentils to that fare. but that is another story.

regarding the cake incident i was a little perplexed as i had not realized i had anything wrong by eating the cake crust. also my mother had not said anything to me while i was eating but much later and the complexities of appropriate social behavior escaped me. i think she might have taken care of her embarrassment by making a joke about the situation, but i guess she did not have the social ease to do that!

inner child work:
my mother shows the aunty her bake pan. i realize there is some left-over crust and i proceed to devour it. my mom makes a joke about how much i love the cake she bakes and how i cannot let go of the last tit-bits. as she says that she also gently caresses my head with her hand showing her understanding of my socially inept behavior. she and aunty laugh in a good-hearted way, as grown-ups do when they find childlike behavior amusing and endearing. i feel seen, valued and learn a social lesson, without any shame or guilt.