Despite my theory that the string of E. 6th St. Indian restaurants questionably shares one large papadum and curry-churning kitchen, Raj Mahal still retains its position as the hokiest and most hilarious place to celebrate a birthday. It’s sort of like the Friday’s of Indian restaurants – even if it’s not someone’s birthday, the spectacle merits lying to one of the sweet-faced waiters. And luckily, since it isn’t Friday’s, no obnoxious “sound-off” chants are sung by depressed forty-year olds in button-sprinkled suspenders. Also, you lie for the celebration, not for the free Oreo Madness.

Raj Mahal, not to be confused with its neighboring competitors, Raj, Taj, or Taj Mahal, serves traditional Indian food that is reasonably priced. The menu features chicken, lamb, beef, and vegetarian dishes, as well as an assortment of naan and paratha breads. Most dishes range from $7-$12. For those of you fresh under-21ers, beer and wine are forced upon you sans carding (anything to jack up the bill).

The décor is, to euphemize, eclectic. Generic tropical location paintings are plastered to the walls alongside a Michelangelo-esque calendar picture of two angel babies. Christmas lights are strewn along the ceiling, suspending the dining room in a reddish glow (hence the lack of food porn attached to this article).

I’ve ordered a few dishes here, including tandoori chicken ($9.50), chicken sag ($9.95), aloo palak ($7.95), and my favorite, chana sag ($8.50). The tandoori chicken, my baby-step entrance into the saucy world of Indian food, is a bit dry. The sag and palak dishes are all served in a mild spinach sauce and are just moist enough to be sopped up by complimentary basmati rice or breads. The chick peas, whose soft insides absorb the sag in which they are cooked, are tender and filling.

Though the food is tasty, it takes a backseat to the epic rendition of the happy birthday song. I hate to ruin the surprise for any of you who dare to publicly lose your dignity by hosting a party here, but here’s the line-up (spoilers contained. Read at your own risk.): The lights are dimmed, and a blaringly loud, upbeat remix of happy birthday is blasted. Multi-colored strobe lights are employed, causing nausea, epilepsy, and palpitations. All waiters, including my favorite, whose name is either Ibrahim or Brian depending on the day, emerge from the shared kitchen and clap around the table. A dessert of spongy fried bananas and cardamom ice cream, topped with a lit sparkler, is brought to the table and placed before the designated birthday boy or girl. Everyone in the restaurant stares at your table, possibly enthused, but most definitely appalled, and the song takes an interesting turn from techno happy birthday to a happy birthday-Old MacDonald Had a Farm-remix (complete with ee-eye-ee-eye-oh’s).

So for those of you who are celebrating a December birthday, or who have no upcoming birthdays but need a good laugh to salvage sanity during these tough times we call finals, I’d strongly recommend Raj Mahal. If you’re bringing friends, don’t tell them what they’re in for. It’s always better to witness the fear/excitement/bewilderment in friends’ eyes the first time they attend a Raj Mahal birthday.