One Such Birthday

Just like all other days, it was another busy day. . .with three back to back classes and two substitution periods, board meeting and a nice bundle of answer sheets to be checked.

I stepped into a Red bus. Happily I found a window seat. Enjoying the light drizzle and scenes outside I gradually began to reminisce those days when my mother used to wake me up on that special day and say "happy birthday!". My father used to be all excited about my birthday all throughout the week but would forget to wish me on the very date. My mother used to remind him! The next best part of the day was the cake and the numbers that changed on it in an ascending order each year.

I never used to remember neither my mother's birthday nor my father's. Each birthday, is not just celebration for me, as I felt it to be just a nasty reminder, of the clocking ticking. So I never did, nor wanted to remember their birthdays. But alas! I can't help those grey strands which both of them refuse to dye.

My bus crossed the Cake World bakery and it took me a jiffy to decide, to get down at that bus stop. I entered the moderately crowded bakery and placed an order for a pastry. Black forest was my favorite among cakes and I had before me, a nice slice of it. I took the spoon wished myself a happy birthday and felt proud about wasting a year and began to devour the ecstacy.

Buses ply abundantly and so there is no need of any hurry. I got out of the bakery and fortunately got a bus that stops just 10 steps away from my home. 

Arvind was back from office but, not from his work, he always carried it back home. Mom was glued to the TV and dad was dozing off in his chair.

It was 6:30pm and the summer dusk poured a lovely shade of amber into our kitchen. I kept my load on the table and hurried into the kitchen. The first thing on reaching home is a cup of strong tea for all. Next and rest are the usual chores. 

As busy as always Arvind acknowledged my presence when the tea was brought. Now that's enough he thinks and now, even I think so. I am used to such passivity. 

Post dinner I sat with the answer sheets and textbooks, scratching my head. My phone was on charge and was near to Arvind. Two loud beep sounds interrupted the usual silence. I turned and looked. An unusually curious, Arvind glaced at the phone screen to read the notification thread and he gave me a long stare.

It read. . Happy Birthday My Angel. . .

It was a message from My Father and Mother.