The whole room erupted in laughter, and Elshan, turning as red as a pomegranate, finally sat down to eat—this time, with a fork and a very small plate.

The music cut out. The room went silent. Elshan stood there, one pocket sagging and a piece of cheese still perched behind his ear.

Panic set in. Elshan walked to the center of the floor, stiff as a board. As he began to hop and spin, the laws of physics took over. A sticky shekerbura flew out of his pocket and landed right on Uncle Murad’s shiny bald head. Then, as he spun faster, a rain of walnuts and pastry crumbs showered the floor like sweet hail.

Suddenly, the music stopped. The legendary Uncle Murad, a man with a booming voice and a sharp eye, called out, "Elshan! Come here and show us your best dance moves! A boy who eats well must dance well!"