Disclaimer

All the information contained within this blog is intended to be general in nature and should not be used as a substitute for a visit to the doctor. The views expressed in this blog are personal views of the author and are not related or directed towards anyone in particular. Although every effort is made to ensure that the content within this blog is accurate, but it is not official in anyway. Please consult a doctor or health care provider.

Sunday 21 September 2014

Happy birthday to me!

It's my birthday today. My first birthday without papa. 

Last year, when after many years, I celebrated my birthday with you.  Papa, you were clapping and singing- Happy birthday to you....I can still hear you. Where are you papa! why don't you come and wish me!....I miss you!

"Wish you a very HAPPY BIRTHDAY",  every year, I woke up with the  same phrase" , years after years. And today, Its my birthday again and you are not here. I woke up. I felt uneasy and hollow. Something was missing. A part of me wanted to sleep. May be you would come to wish me(in my dream). But the breathlessness forced me to wake up. I got up and made myself a cup of tea.

As, I sip my cup of tea, I am thrown back in time. The time, when I used to celebrate my birthday. Me and my younger brother share birthday, just 12 hours apart. So it was  twice the celebration in my house. As the month started, we would start counting days, we would make a list of friends to be invited. My mother would buy us new clothes. As the day approached, our excitement knew no limits. Our eyes were fixed on the calendar and mind would wonder about the celebrations.

On the day, in school- we would celebrate by distributing sweets. In the evening there would be a party at home. Friends and neighbors would join.  Cake, chocolates, chips, cold drinks, cookies...wow, It used to be so much fun.. After, everyone left, we would start opening the gifts. When all the gifts were unwrapped, last of all papa would slowly slide his gift next to me. Over the years, I  received just two gifts  alternately- a hair brush or a color box.

Papa, loved my hairs and would always wanted me to have long hairs. Gifting a hair brush was his way of telling me to have long hairs. Which, of course I never did.The color box, because he loved art and wanted at least one of his children to appreciate his love for art and painting. Both my brothers hated painting, since I showed some interest. Therefore, papa tried his best to inculcate his love for painting in to me. He was successful. I love painting. I stil paint.........sometimes!

I know, papa you are always around me- wishing and blessing me. But, I am waiting for my color box. I want to paint. I want to tell you, though I don't keep my hairs long now, but I still want my hair brush....

Love you papa!

No comments:

Post a Comment