I felt a slight jerk on my shoulder, asking me to sit upright. It was six AM and I was an eight year old who adored his sleep.
My eyes were half-open . Unable to sit straight on the mat, I stretched my Amma’s warm, yellow, cotton saree over me, begging her to let me sleep a little longer. I kept rocking back and forth between the real and the dream realm. That cold, cold morning I preferred the dream world to the real one.
”Bullu,. Up.” I could sense the threat in my mother’s words. I opened my eyes and saw my “Amma’s” beautiful smiling face. I smiled back. I was glad that I opened my eyes to see this Godly smile. I preferred the real world to my dream one, after all.
I remember almost everything from that morning. Her smile, a strange aroma, my brother (who was two years older) sleeping next to me in a strange posture and my reflection in the corner of Appa’s eye.
Amma placed a small rectangle box neatly wrapped in newspaper in my hand. “Happy birthday Bullu. May God be in your work” , she said and gave me a big smile. Appa followed that wish with his and presented me with a 5 RUPEE COIN! My God!!
When my parents left for work, I was on my own. I had a big 5 rupee coin,(which made me very rich among my peers) and a mysterious box, wrapped in newspaper. There was nothing left to do other than opening the box.
For me, the newspaper wrapped around the box did not carry the news of politics, crime or entertainment that day. It only told me one thing, “Happy birthday., We love you, you mean the world to us.”
Unwrapping it was easy and I was excited too but I didn’t tear it. I opened it gently and carefully. I saw a red pencil box inside it. When I opened the box, it had an eraser, a pencil, a sharpener, and a small scale. I was extremely happy. In fact, even the word ‘Happy’ seemed incapable to sum up what i felt. Well some emotions just can not bptured in words.
This is how my birthday was celebrated till I was sixteen. Waking up early, Amma presenting a beautifully news paper -wrapped pencil box with stationery inside. Oh!, the box would also contain something very important in abundance – Love.
My mother, father, my brother or I never said that we love each other aloud, we never hugged each other, never kissed each other. We never felt the need to do it. We would show our love through actions and the other person would understand.
I feel that we have grown so numb to feelings. We have this constant fear of another person not comprehending the love hidden in the act. We have stopped our search for love in the act and rather await the vocal confirmation.
Yes, it does feel good when people say that they love us but we are often ignorant to the love in the act itself.
I remember all my birthdays so far, and I love them all. But something about the birthday that was celebrated with my family has stayed with me till date. I now long to unwrap the newspaper, to see the pencil box, to see that 5 rupee coin in my palm, and of course, abundance of love.
