Charulata's Diary | On Going |

The Birthday Night - Part 1

                                             Friday
                                       27|04|2018

10:20 pm

Okay, I don't like him. At all.

He is the most arrogant person, I have ever seen in my life, who doesn't have any manners to behave.
But, I don't think, others will agree with me on that. Especially, my parents. Instead, they, very much, liked him. They and every other person, in the party, were appreciating everything, he was saying, even though, most of them were illogical to me. They were laughing at his every silly joke, that I didn't find amusing to laugh at. Instead, I found it really annoying. The girls were swooning over him, whenever he was passing them.
Maybe, it was all because of his good and charming look, that was capable of captivating people in an entrancing spell, a great body that every man in this world, would dream to have and a breathtakingly beautiful smile, that was, literary, glued on his face, throughout the whole evening.
Even, I can't deny that he was looking illicitly handsome in that black tuxedo.
But this was all, until, I knew, who he really was.

Ok, let me start from the beginning.....

I never take, much time, to get ready, so, I came downstairs after thirty minutes to see my father was coming out of the kitchen, holding a glass of water and my mother was nowhere to be found in the hall. Possibly, she was looking for that missing piece of jewelry that would match her dress and that couldn't be replaced with any other jewelry and neither she would change the dress, she had already decided to wear, for the party, and that would make us late, as usual.

My father, usually, have a pile of complaints against my mother, but, he never complains when she is taking, too much, time to get ready. Instead, he waits very patiently, because, he knows, it is worth the waiting. He knows, the woman, who would come out of that door, would be, drop-dead gorgeous and he would be proud to hold her in his arms to show the world his precious possession.

They are the perfect couple, before the world.

My father didn't pay any attention to me, as he never did. He didn't even wish me Birthday. Maybe he didn't remember, like always.
His ignorance, always causes me an emense pain that stings in my heart like a thousand pricking nails.....but I'm now used to this pain.

Almost, after, forty-five minutes, my mother was finally ready and came out of her bedroom, looking......as I said, before, drop-dead gorgeous. I looked at my father, knowing what would be his reaction.

Only, in a few moments, like this, his hard and serious contour gets replaced by an expression of astonishment and he looks at her with so much affection and endearment that I, always, doubt if he is the same person who fights with her every day, as if, she is the curse of his life.
He, almost, looks like a man, who's foolishly in love with his wife.
My mother knows, what his expression will be, in the same way, I do. Perhaps, this is the reason, she takes so much time to get ready. To see this expression of affection and appreciation on her husband's face. To feel his loving and caring eyes, upon her. Even though, this moment doesn't stay longer than a few seconds.

I don't know what happened between them. I don't know if they were, ever, in love with each other or things were, always, like this. But, one thing, I know, if anything had made their relationship worse, that was me.
Except, I don't know what wrong did I do.

It took me, ages, to cover the two minutes distance from my house to yours or Rohit Sawarbal's. Whatever.
I stopped at the gate and looked at the house.
The lights, that were hanging from the terrace to the ground, of the house, were beautiful and were making, the house, look alive and happy, after years.
I could, even, hear the chirping voices and a soft music, that was playing inside.
I used to know this house, so well, but it was so unfamiliar to me, now.
I never went to your house, after that day of my hysterical outburst, seven years ago.
You know, It felt awkward, that you wouldn't be there to open the door for me, as you, always, used to.