Posted by Cygmund on Tuesday, 9. February 1999 at 02:15 Bali Time:
We knew we wanted our son's second birthday to be special.
We knew we'd come to the right country for a special experience.
But the magic began when we thought of throwing a party for the children of some Balinese village. We were already in love with the impeccable compounds, with their intricate temples and flower-laden women, and friendly temperaments. We knew that to the Balinese, a child is god-like, and must be treated with reverence and affection. My son, Chaitanya, is a no-holds-barred kid, and goes out and makes friends with people, animals, flowers, and birds. You can imagine what a lot of love he was already swimming in.
Our taxi driver was a young man called Jaya, who I'd contacted first on the Internet. He and his brother Toya took turns playing with Chaitanya --- and one morning, on a whim, I asked Toya and Jaya if we could throw a party for the children of his village, Bunutan, to celebrate my son's birthday. The idea found instant appeal. I asked them to set it up in the traditional Balinese way, whatever that was.
The evening before the birthday, Shilpa and I went shopping to buy gifts for the children of Bunutan. About 15 were expected, and we bought crayons and colouring books for each of them. For Jaya's and Toya's 2-year-old daughters, we found fat, cuddly Winnie the Poohs.
On the morning of the birthday, January 18, Toya came around about 3 in the afternoon with his village dance teacher. They carried rented Balinese ceremonial gear, and both Chaitanya and I had to get dressed up in them. A brocade headgear went on, a white coat somewhere in between a tux and a steward's blazer followed, and finally a purple sarong with its outer. I felt completely 'local'.
At Bunutan, we were overwhelmed and deeply moved by the elaborate prepartions. The entire village had obviously been involved, and we could see at least six hours of painstaking labour. The forum in the centre of the compound, a roofed podium about 15 feet square, had been done up in flowers, punctuated with artful fruit arrangements featuring some fruits I had never seen like rambutan, starfruit, and longan.
Four pretty little girls of about eight had been elaborately made up --- at least three hours of make-up time, I reckoned --- and were all set to render a Balinese welcome dance. On the mats that adorned the floor, there were flower arrangements, and a conical mound of Bali's ceremonial yellow rice, which is made only on special occasions. On the ledge was a cake quaintly inscribed to Wayan Chaitanya on his "2th birthday". [Wayan is a Balinese prefix applied to the first born in a family].
It was an enchanted evening, with love in the air, and the tinkling laughter of children. Even time stopped to rest a moment in this little wonderland. Chaitanya was soon dancing in the centre stage with his newfound girl-friends, and applauding with gusto when each song ended. After the cake was cut, he gave out gifts to all the children, and then received one himself from his parents --- a little plastic guitar with plastic strings.
Most of the people in Bunutan cannot affordf higher education, and even the smarter fellows like Jaya and Toya have only finished upto secondary school. Poverty is endemic, though you would never guess it from the smiles on their faces and the generosity of their welcomes and their hospitality. I gave the village $100 (about 1,00,000 Rupiah)
for all their detailed efforts to make the birthday memorable --- but I know that what they did for my child is difficult to repay. It came out a deep love of children.
Later, a day before we left Bali, I asked Jaya if his villagers thought we'd gone overboard in our birthday celebrations. He thought a moment, and said, "Well, we'd never do that much fanfare for a second birthday. We have a full-out party and fanfare and ceremonies when a child crosses six months. That's a landmark for us. But after that one, we don't really pay all that much attention to birthdays."
He looked at me sideways to make sure I