“Happy budday mamu, happy budday mamu,” 5-year-old Saralata cried out loud.
“It is not my budday,” her mamu responded in a low voice. Her attention was occupied by the stove. She was keeping a close eye at it for she did not want the milk to overflow. As an additional precaution, she had already snatched the packet of coffee and a dabba of sugar from the shelf and placed it onto the kitchen counter.
“But I want to eat cake,” Saralata pouted, as she toyed with her plastic car. Numerous other cars were scattered on the dining table.
“I thought you had a headache,” mamu stirred the about-to-boil-and-spill milk.
“I did not want to go to school,” Saralata whispered. Mamu smiled.
“Because the cat told me.”
The cat had been watching the drama unfold from the kitchen shelf. It jumped down to the floor and climbed onto the counter to lick the milk that had overpoured from the dekchi while mamu had looked around to deploy her mom-stare at Saralata.