Mom raised me up with all those affections and family values. She regularly shares her feelings with me, my brother and dad. Occasionally she turns into a sentimental women, whenever she mentions her childhood with my grandparents. With dad around, she won’t even get a chance to recall her past life, he doesn’t even allow a tear to escape mom’s eyes.
Dad allocated most of his leisure time with mom and us, which helped him to relax from his work. Most of the time he concentrated on his work to make money and give us a luxury life. Dad is the reason for mom’s happiness, he is the reason for our happiness, and he is the reason behind our picture perfect family. He may skip a movie sometimes, he may skip the Sunday’s family time sometimes, but, even he doesn’t like to skip those moments to play and have fun with us. Whatever he does, it’s only for us, to give us everything we ask for, and he gave us everything we asked for. He sacrificed his happiness to make us happy, to see us happy and to keep us away from tears forever.
Till mama got married, dad looked after him as if he was his own brother, and that is the reason mama gives more importance to my dad than his dad. He stayed with us, lived with us, enjoyed with us, and became a part of our family. After his marriage, he took a rented house very nearer to our house, so that he can visit us daily and play with us every day after work. He brings three chocolates every day, for three of us, and he would drop three of us at school in dad’s car. Mama likes playing with us, as if he was still a child, and, mummy would always scold him for habituating us in the path of chocolates every day. He loves khushi so much, more than he loves us.
Once I asked him “why do you like khushi more than us mama?”, and he responded with a wide grin across his face. “Because she resembles my sister, your mom. She was a little baby back then, like your little sister. My sister doesn’t know how I played with her, how much I cared for her, how I protected her from your grand ma’s beatings. She does all naughty and mischievous things in her childhood, and I kept all those away from your grandma’s ears. When I can’t hold the villagers from complaining, I use to carry those mistakes of my sister over my head, so that she won’t get beatings from your grandma. Your mother would always cry for that, because she doesn’t want to see me feeling the pain. She will stay mute with grandma for that whole day. She would cry for my pains, which gradually changed her into a good girl.”
While mama was expressing his childhood memories, mom stayed at the door step of kitchen, listening mama’s love towards her. She blushed with a cute little smile across her face and went back into the kitchen. With time, mama finally got married and dad financed him in his television business. He worked hard, just like dad, and finally got settled in his business. Before going to work, he always stops by our house to give us chocolates and after his work, he stops by to play with us for sometimes.
I do still remember me wrangling with all my relatives, whoever squeezes my khushi in their arms beyond my reach. People always endeavor their full effort in teasing me with “I will take khushi along with us to our home” kind of words from their bloody mouths. I can recall my standing posture by the aperture of my home, to seal their steps, if they put an effort to do so.
Some humans are heartless for the reason that they even demonstrated their act of taking khushi along with them, while on the other hand, I never gave up. I would hold them tight, along with tears, to make them realize that they are taking my happiness, as well as my family happiness along with them. People would laugh at me, pinch me on my cheek, and then they would put her in my arms, assuring that they will leave khushi with me (I am such a childish back then). Every individual who holds khushi would spoil her cheeks with their damn kisses all over her face. Her smooth skin turned into a rough texture with an effect of everyone kissing and pinching her chubby little cheeks, and the effect resulted in rashes for a little while.
Day by day, my tears vanished with a medicine of friendship. I started to share everything with my friends (except chocolates), and all my moments with my mom. Every morning, mom wakes me up at sharp 7’o clock, with a warning than I will be punished by my class teacher, if I cannot reach the school in time. Sometimes I cry, fearing to face the devils with stick, a chalk-piece and a duster as their weapons to make us read and write, and then study. It’s a routine, leaving the Sunday as an exception for us to play and watch television. Its ok with my routine, because I use to enjoy a lot playing with friends at school, but the worst part is, they give us homework, and we have to complete the work by next day.
I had a brother, who would always kick me for complaining mom about his activities at school, but my little sister’s so cute, she plays with me all day. I remember my mom running behind us with plate in one hand, and rice in other (to feed me and my little sister). With all of my mother’s love and dad’s care, we were a happy family without any regrets till now. Dad always likes to spend time with us, but his enjoyment is restricted to Sundays. We always enjoy helping dad with his car wash, where the major job is done by my brother. We play with each other till noon, while my mom would be busy in preparing chicken (yummy). Dad always takes us to a movie on Saturday night (which I would plan for whole week and wait to implement it), so that we can have enough sleep. On Sunday evenings, dad gives us a ride to dam or park or restaurant, so that he can spend time with us, beyond the four wall house. Dad adores mom, for standing by his side in every aspect.
Day after day, I started to grow old, so was my sister and my elder brother. I learned how to brush by myself, bath and towel myself, and getting ready to school by myself, but, my sister is too young to get ready without my mother’s help. She was a little baby a year back, but now, she can crawl little bit. I watched her sleep, watched her cry, watched her laugh, and also watched her grow.
I cannot recollect each and every moment of my life, but I can recollect each and every moment I enjoyed with my little sister. Accidents do happen, little accidents might have happened to me even, but I don’t remember them now. I might have slipped, tripped, stumbled and finally fell many times, while I was learning to stand and walk. Of course I remember one accidental figure cut, which happened while I was sharping my pencil with a shaving blade, and I remember it because of the signature it left over my finger. Khushi fell down so many times, but she doesn’t feel any pain while playing with her little toys. But the day is quite different. It’s a Sunday and also a rainy day, a rainy day has always been a welcome for us, for khushi and me. It was a sunny day, but lasted only till noon. The sky wasn’t sunny any more, the dark clouds hid the sun in them, like a pair of eyes holding its tears back. It may rain anytime.
I placed myself before TV, with khushi making herself comfortable over my lap, watching bey-blade in cartoon network, which we both love in common. Khushi was not a baby anymore, she can talk and walk, as she was four years old by then. All of a sudden, it started to rain outside. Rain splatters slammed against the glass window with such force that I feared it may crack. I took a look outside. The distant blur of a tree indicated there was heavy wind out there.
I was back in front of kai (hero of bey-blade), while khushi was still looking at him, as if nothing was going around. She was so lost, as she didn’t even sense a little tap on back of her head. Of course she jerked a bit, but went back into her previous posture. She loves watching kai fighting with all his powers, like a super hero. Sometimes, she would irritate all of us imitating kai fighting’s with her action (as if she was a kung-fu fighter), which we enjoyed a lot in secrecy, because if she comes to know that we were enjoying her show, she won’t compromise herself in showing more and more fighting techniques of kai kazama. We always fight over it, because I use to like Tyson, who is another hero in bey-blade. I always tease to fight with her by criticizing kai, and she would fight with me for scolding her hero.
With her cute little hands, she pulls my hair, she beats me, pinches me, sometimes she even bites me with the help of her small teeth. I use to beat her sometimes using limited strength. She is so cute when she was a baby, but now, she transformed into a devil, a cute little devil. Khushi is so clever in recognizing people, as well as in blaming me for all naughty things she does in the name of me and my elder brother. Once we played with each other mostly, now we fight with each other regularly.
A rainy day has always been a welcome break for us – for khushi and me. We’ve made paper boats and gone out in the rain, we’ve jumped in the muddy puddles till creases have formed in our toes and then the wrap-up under the blanket with a hot cup of chocolate milk for khushi and me. Mummy use to scold us for playing like that, but today was different, mom is sleeping tight in her blankets, as it was cold outside due to rain. We tiptoed out of house with paper boats in our hands. We played after the rain though, but, after a little while, my smile washed away with the rain of tears all over my little sister’s face. I always held her hand in mine, with a fear that she would slip and break her jaw. I regret the moment, because I let her hand free from mine. Everything happened the next moment was in slow motion, I guess.
Khushi ran towards the door with great speed, to wake up mom and show her the paper boat rowing across the water. I caught her once before the run, but she broke herself from my grip. I should have ran behind her, but I didn’t do so. Just before the door step, she slipped, khushi slipped, because of her wet legs rubbing the marble floor with less fiction, she fell down over her face. She cried and cried, which forced a moment in mom’s legs to run towards her. I lifted her, while mom is running our way. Looking straight into her eyes, my heart might have skipped a beat on looking at her tear full of eyes. Yes we fight all day, and we fight with love, not with hatred. I just stood bewildered, not in a position to react to the situation. Khushi looked blur in front of my teary eyes. Everything went blur, which might have happened with the fear that mom would beat me or with the love towards khushi, I don’t know, but I was crying, so was my sister, so was mom, because no one can see khushi suffering with pain. A huge swell appeared over her forehead. Khushi was crying continuously, while mom is using a steam cloth against her swollen forehead, with tears at the corner of her eyes.
Minute by minute, khushi cried louder and louder. I switched on the TV, flipped the channels in the direction of cartoon network, and bey-blade cartoon was running in the background, as the time ticked 5 in the evening. She always pinned her eyes near TV for bey-blade, but not this time. She might be going through lot of pain. Mom offered a toffee, she declined it by throwing it away. Mom and I tried to calm her cry with toy and every possible thing around, but nothing worked. Finally, one little thing made her happy, the rainbow bubble, which I bought from an exhibition two days earlier. I ran into my room to fetch the bubble maker, to try my luck in spreading my little sister’s laughter around the house.
Soap bubbles of different sizes from small to big started to float around the room, for which she didn’t respond first. Khushi stopped her cry for a while looking at those flying bubbles, then she continues her tune. But, I didn’t give up, I blew up another flow of bubbles across her little face this time, which sacrificed themselves to look at her cute little smile. Finally khushi stopped crying and started laughing as soon as the bubbles busted across her face. A little amounts of soap water sprinkled over her face with every bubble, for which she blushed like a birdie. My cute little sister almost forgot her pain, as she made herself busy in patting the bubbles with her little fingertips. Mom and me joined along with khushi, jumping and touching the rainbow bubbles along with khushi, as if we were kids (ya ya, I am still a kid, but, what about mom, she is not a kid I guess).
While we were busy playing with the rainbow bubbles (we use to call them “rainbow bubbles” because of the myriad hues that the bubbles adorned on them), my brother joined us, and we played and played, till we heard a knocking sound from the door. We were shouting, laughing and playing, before dad appeared at the door step. On looking at dad, a visible worry clouded every instinct of my body, and hope same happened with all three of them. The room is filled with bubbles when dad entered. While dad was busy staring at our statue like posture, a popped sound of bubble forced us to look in the direction of khushi. She popped the bubble and stood silently, as if she didn’t do anything. She came to know that everyone saw her popping the bubble, so she pointed her finger towards me and said “annayya did it”, with her sweet little words. Dad approached khushi, wearing a serious look around his face. He lifted her in his arms, gripped her little hand with his, and he popped a rainbow bubble with the help of khushi’s little finger. The play time extended till the bubbles got exhausted, so as we.
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