Hunger drove me to this American restaurant. This city wasn't new to me,
nope not at all even after 10 years I saw just the same souls all around
me. I stood at the entrance and wondered if they felt that way about me too.
Last time I was here, it was raining.
"It’s raining so hard; it would be so difficult to park the car."
I heard my dad say to mum as I pressed my face against the car window in
delight although bored of imagining the raindrop race against the window pane.
I smiled eye to eye for today I was throwing my birthday party at this american
restaurant, which my childhood "best friend" loved and bragged so
dearly. Finally I could say, I threw a party at the same place too!
We ushered through the pavement and reached the place. Mum looked out from
the restaurant almost worried, she knew no one would turn up and my father knew about it and had the most calm disposition. While I whispered to my sister of
how great it would now as I can show off too. Nobody turned up. Not even my
favorite uncle. My dad smiled at me and said do not worry, we'll eat together
here. He made me realize that it is difficult to come here in the rain. My mum
brought me the cake and before I could cut it, an impeccably dressed
up staff came up and asked my father as to whose birthday was it? My
father pointed me out. They asked my father to celebrate my birthday in the
birthday corner; suddenly the stranger who I thought had come for my cake was
welcome to my party for all those balloons and beautiful colors. Before I could
even bathe in the thought of how good it would be my dad politely refused.
My peanut sized brain couldn't comprehend why would my dad would ever
hate me so much? While driving back I brooded over whatever happened. My father asked me if I was happy. I said obviously half heartedly "Yes I was"
My dad knew, smiled and said. "Tonight should be a matter of many
lessons for you. We could've stayed together at home and Mumma would've cooked your favorite chicken dish and we could have had more fun than we did here, waiting for people who never turned up".
Someone shouted me to get out of their way, I didn't realize I was blocking a
young pretty lady's path I apologized and moved, she threw a piqued look at
me and trotted off in her poise of socially accepted elegance. Rain had stopped
long back; my childlike innocence had been washed away and replaced by shining sun. I smiled and walked ahead.
I retreated back, after losing my apetite I walked to the same place
where my car was then parked. And I realised What I could be and what I was.
Only because my parents taught me to find happiness in little things. I knew
happiness was in blaming the other sibling for something you did and then feel
secretly sorry about it, that little dance your father did when we prayed in
the temple when according to "socially" accepted norms told you
to sit straight and pray with dead seriousness, in seeing your mother melting
after being so angry, in seeing my father holding doors for my mother or
simply just eating atleast one meal together as a compulsory family tradition.
A child doesn't need only financial assistance to grow up, child needs to be
loved, nutured loved and at times given the doses of wisdom. Wise parenthood
paves a path for wise children.
And, even the smallest of the incidents can teach you your family will
always be there for you. And it is so important to let them know you
would be there too.