One of the fascinating aspects of Happy Birthday remains the character of Toha, who is an epitome of child labour in the luxurious household. Yet, the child is selfless, almost warranting the urge to celebrate her bestie’s birthday despite the roadblocks that she encounters. For starters, she does convince her ’employer’ about how birthdays are rare occurances, and how there could still be a way to put together a party before Nelly arrives from school. And the one thing that she expects in return is the urge to ‘blow candles’ in order to make a wish, something that you see her confessing to Nelly in an early scene.

The commentary in the film is two-fold – it triggers a discussion on child labour as much as it does about a significant class divide that is prevalent in the society. For instance, you literally spot Nelly’s mother assigning the duty of dragging the shopping trolley to Toha, who happily does it for her. Nelly’s mother isn’t shown to be evil, she is dealing with her own issues with finances (a fleeting topic that signifies a hierarchy in the society based on where one stands in the food chain), while often also being empathetic towards Toha. In a scene, you do see her worried when Toha disappears briefly, only to gently vent her anger on Toha before volunteering to teach her their contact number (Toha doesn’t go to school). She even refuses to purchase a dress from a shop, when the shop employee stops Toha from wanting to try a new dress. But the underlying commentary tells us a different story.

The dress that Nelly’s mother wants to purchase is for her daughter, only wanting Toha to try given that both the young girls have a similar body type. She also is ashamed of Toha being a participant at the party which would comprise of the elite folks of the society, something that prompts her to plan her exit. And this is where you witness the world that Toha has grown up in – her mother is a fisherwoman, continuing to fish and earn a quick buck that may just about be enough to survive with her 5 children. The setting is drastically different from the lavish lifestyle that Toha ‘works under’, the streets are narrow, the house is small unlike the spacious apartment of Nelly. In fact, one prime difference is also thematically represented in two scenes – one involving Toha travelling in a private car with Nelly’s mother, and the other involving Toha’s sister who takes her back home in multiple modes of transport also featuring a cramped up bus.

The gaze of an 8 year old is wonderfully well represented as someone who isn’t aware of the differences in class, while just wanting to be at her friend’s birthday party. There is a throbbing sense of empathy that you feel for Toha, while predicting the path ahead and fearing the worst for her. There are a gush of emotions that engulf you, even when the little 8 year old is stopped at the gate while others in swanky cars pass through without a sense of caution, to Nelly being more worried about Toha’s attire, and almost being normalized while Toha silently cleans up the mess. The dreams of Toha are enough to burden you with a lot of guilt even as you watch two contrasting evenings unfolding parallelly for the two kids, something that will break your heart. Even the ending was painfully gut-wrenching and heartbreaking in so many ways, that brought tears to my eyes while watching tears trickle down little Toha. So in a way, the drama is also designed as a metamorphosis for the protagonist who is shown to ‘grow up’ in one night while also acting as a mirror to the two-faced society that also extends its power dynamics to child.