My wife’s planned my son’s birthday party. In keeping with our holy tradition and long-practised culture, her husband is the last to know.
My son Mikhaail is a lovely boy (on occasion), who wears his pants on his chest and has now started to wear sweaters even in 40 degrees temperature — a feat performed successfully only by sheep and the latter day Rishi Kapoor.

And although I’m the last to know, I’ve been rested assured that the bill would be assuring bang on time.
The birthday party is to be held nine days before the actual birthday. There are two reasons for this: a) because my son wants to; b) because it allows him to celebrate his birthday twice.
The other rider my son apparently put down scared the pants off me. His exact words were, “No Girls”. For a father of a young son these words can cut you to the bone. It is exactly the feeling singer Cher felt when they told her there were no surgeons free, exactly the feeling George Michael got when he was released from jail early, against his best wishes.
Now the “no girl” blanket ban would be okay if my son was a card-carrying member of that august humanitarian body, Shree Ram Sene! But quite honestly, I have never found any literature of any political party, much less the Maharashtra Navnirman Sena or the Shiv Sena on him till this date.
Conversely, I haven’t found any adult-content girlie mags either, and please, please for god’s sake don’t throw that “he’s only seven” reason in my face. That really is no reason at all. With a few hours to go for the actual party, which is to be a football party, I put my son on my lap and tried to reason with him. However, you know how occasionally you have felt that your seven-year-old is really an 11-year-old? Well, him sitting on my lap was one of those times: so we changed positions, sat on separate chairs, and I started the interrogation.
Cyrus: So, Son why?
Mikhaail: Why what?
Cyrus: Not why what, just why?
Mikhaail: Just why what?
Cyrus: No not just why what
Realising this was going nowhere I decided to change tact and become more confrontational.
Cyrus: Mikhaail, do you like girls?
Mikhaail: Dad, do you like girls?
Cyrus: I asked you first, but if you must know, I LOVE Girls!
Mikhaail: Good, good. When I grow up and get girls, I’ll turn them over to you. (I made a mental note that he may regret saying this.)
Cyrus: But why don’t you like girls?
Mikhaail: Many reasons. They smell. They have long hair. They gossip all the time, and they are stronger than me.
Cyrus: These are good reasons.
Mikhaail: Besides, in my class they all have the same name.
Cyrus: Which name?
Mikhaail: Anya
Okay, I said to myself, these were good reasons. I then told my son the problem. The truth as I saw it. How that when we age we start wanting girls at our party. First we just want a few of them. Then we feel at least half the party should be girls, and by the time you are 14, you are wishing the whole party is made up of girls. Forget party! You hope the cake is a girl. The candles are girls, the decorations are girls, the games are girls. I tried to make him see the light. As one ages, inviting girls to birthdays became more and more difficult: a)Your mother objects; b)Your wife objects; and c) The girls object. So one early birthday without girls is one birthday wasted. One easy girl-filled birthday that you can never claim back in later life. However, my son was adamant. My better sense, as usual, didn’t prevail. My wife, of course, pushed the “no girl” agenda. As my son succinctly put it, “She’s a girl. If she approves a ‘no girl’ zone, then she obviously knows how dangerous and irritating girls could be”. Again good reason. I could see his point.
But years later when the boy is a man and he has to get up everyday and pretend to work, when he’s actually spending every waking moment checking out, thinking about and talking to girls, he’ll remember his father’s words of wisdom.
I invite the GIRLS!!!!