I was born on 24th January, eleven years ago. For me, it is the day when I am made to feel very important. I am busy sending invitation cards, arranging games and decorating the drawing-room, on my birthday. I have left certain things entirely to my sister. For example, it is for her to decorate the cards and write addresses in very beautiful handwriting. She also invites her friends to join the party. My father has a very different notion about the celebration of my birthday. Last year, he had taken me to an orphanage and had made me contribute money to their welfare fund. This year, he intends to take me to the school for the blind.
My friends start arriving around 5 p.m. I welcome each one of them with warmth and make them sit
comfortably in the drawing-room that is beautifully decorated. They bring gifts for me, nicely packed in colour wrappers. My uncle who lives abroad sends me a nice set of pens or a pair of nice jeans. This year again, I hope to get something wonderful from him.
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When all the friends have come, my mother brings the cake to the drawing-room. The candles are lit on it. As my friends sing “Happy Birthday.” I blow out the candles and use a knife to carve out small pieces of the cake. Everyone wishes me a prosperous
future. Some snacks are also served. The gifts are piled up in one corner and we all get ready to play the games. Every game seems to be full of fun. They all roar with laughter. The lengthening shadows of the evening remind us that we have to wind up. Those friends who come from far off places, start taking leave. It is the turn of my father to drive me to a charity home, a school for the disabled or a hospital in the city. He wants me to remember all those people as my brothers and sisters and help them in their hour of need. I always look forward to my birthday as I feel very happy and important on this day.