The Present

 
I received my present with open arms. I was drenched with happiness. My mom’s absence left me wondering aimlessly. Like a dear little puppy in a dark, dirty, wet back lane of a city centre. It could go forward or just back track into nothingness. Both the ends looked exactly the same. I was like that. Of course there was papa. Dearest papa who made me feel like I am the real princess behind every other wondrous but amazingly dreamy characters in fairy tales. He tried to replace mom when she left for a few months to pursue her studies.
                                                                                                   
She came home a new person. Much slimmer, radiant, prettier and she didn’t have the irritated look every mother has after a long days work. They come home, all tired, drained of all their precious energy, wasting their true potential on some menial job they are demanded of. Just for a few dollars for the family of course. I could see papa at the corner of my eyes. He had a very stupid grin on his face. Was he surprised to see his wife all new, groomed, and splendid after a leave of absence? Maybe he felt happy for his dearest princess, who finally saw her mother again.

A hug. A warm envelope of arms stamped with love and felicity wrapped itself around my frail body. I love mommy and mommy loves me. Simple and yet the term itself is able to crumble an iron wall and what not, a country. That was all I thought about that very moment. It’s been sometime since I felt her body against mine. Her scent reminded me of newborn babies. Strangely, during this bear hug, images from the television formed in my head. Like long forgotten memory, I recollected one episode in National Geographic when a mother panda grabbed a branch of bamboo, a young one at that and gave it to her cub who sat smugly between it’s mother’s out stretched legs.

Reality hit back when someone threw a question at me. It was my mother, I later found out. She kept talking or rather I would call it jabbering and searching earnestly for something in a bundle of bags. Frantically, her eyebrows arched, her nose wrinkled, lines formed on her fair, smooth forehead, grim lines stretched and contracted around the periphery of her lips. Suddenly, I saw a smile broke put. I watched it stretch, literally from ear to ear. Wow, I never thought it was possible. Maybe I was dreaming again like the mother panda episode that vividly passed through my mind.

Then, I saw it, a green box. It must be something special. After such a long time she must have gotten me something that I would really adore. Where could her common sense be if she didn’t get what her daughter wants. I don’t recall telling her what I wanted specifically. I could do with an assorted, branded, high in quality colour pencils from States or maybe some article of clothing that could only be found in the northern hemisphere. I got to show it to my friends just like how that vixen of a neighbour I had. Her mom got her some sort of collectors edition on Barbie in a prom gown. God, she couldn’t help herself. Drooling right in front of teacher, telling everyone how much she loves it. Can you imagine?? This girl went nuts about dolls!

Anyway, it was a green box, covered on the sides and also the base but the top was transparent. The thing could be seen then, without me having to rip of some fancy wrapping paper. I cursed myself for being half the height of my mother and why was she holding it above my head. Just hand it down to me mother, it’s very simple, slowly now, hand it down, down to me. Would she stop bragging, a hodgepodge of news can be told later. Papa can wait. Give me the present mommy. Should I jump for it? Wouldn’t dearest elder brother find me a trifle too desperate and give me that popular smirk of his?

Finally, she bended over, pecked me on my cheek for the hundredth time and handed me the box. The floor underneath my feet rumbled, it moved discreetly at first, gaining momentum and speed by the second. Ferociously the ground began cracking up. My whole house quivered, cringed like a scared little child. The rumble under my feet spread like the attack of a thousand crickets in a cornfield. Fast, greedy, unyielding and horribly deadly. I saw my brother, he was shouting, screaming, pleading for his life. He asked me to save him. I sneered. I chuckled for now I had my redemption. He was the first and foremost person that made life dreadful, scary and totally unattractive. Who but him should be suffering now? A thunderous laugh burst out of my lungs.

Steam rose, clouding the sky in hot, muggy, wet vapours. The smell, pungent and miasma tic. Anyone has a facemask? I looked down, in my attempt to search for the source for all this special effects. I noticed the red, languid, lurid colour. So that what teacher meant when she talked about the corona of the earth. Semi-liquid. Hotter than any human being could ever live to feel. Lava sprang forth upwards like hot geysers. Waves soon developed, pouring, washing everything on sight. A great earthquake must have happened underneath, I said to myself. A tsunami of ponderous magnitude took place or is  taking place in there. Wow! Why go through all the trouble to epitomise my anger. All done in my honour….

A watch? A WATCH? Why mom, don’t you remember, only on my previous birthday you gave me the most beautiful watch I have ever seen. Why go all the way, across the ocean, leaping over all those countries to get me, your only daughter, to get a watch? I was in for an even better surprise. Before I could say a word on what I thought about her gift, she commanded me, in her sweet, melodious voice….
“Common now, run along, give it to your brother,”

I am betrayed beyond belief. How could she do this to me? Why doesn’t she have compassion, or even pity for me? Had I not come from the very same womb as him?  Am I not a being that grew from seeds contributed by both you and papa? Why treat me differently? Why go through all they trouble buying that rascal of a son ten gift? That’s right, ten, I counted meticulously.

You, who taught me not to look at differences between men. You, who made me, see the world in a pair of unbiased eyes. You made me treat my friends equally. You told me to divide those delicious cakes you made for my friends proportionately. You denied me the right to invite my best friend for my birthday party because I said I only wanted to spend it with her and none other. You are the one who told me justice was blind. She could ‘see no evil, hear no evil and speak no evil’. She gave out verdicts, punishments to those bad people without any leniency. Not looking at looking at skin, creed, beliefs and even a person’s preference for colours, ice-cream flavour, fruit and game.

What’s the point of teaching me to be a monk that does nothing but pray and seek purification of thoughts, body and soul to reach Nirvana when you are allowed to commit those blasphemous conducts? Mommy, I’m ashamed of you. Why do you have to break my heart? Oh no, not you mother.

I walked smugly to my brother, shoved the present to him. I didn’t say a word. I didn’t dare look at his face that would have imprinted that sneer that would make my cry. I don’t want to be called a crybaby by him again. Mom and dad never noticed anything. They couldn’t read what was on my mind. They were chattering happily, telling each other what they missed out on. Catching up with time. Rekindling the fire of their marriage. Lovemaking politely, obediently, they wouldn’t want to make a scene in front of brother and I.

Dinner was horrid. I had to wear a clown’s face throughout dinner as to not offend the heart of my family members. Had anyone thought about mine? I had to eat granny’s cooking today. Which was a blessing. It got things out of my mind. It consoled me. I loved her cooking. Rice, fish and vegetables. Unlike many kids, I loved vegetables. I can eat raw carrots, celery, salads, cabbage, asparagus, tomatoes and the list goes on. The fish was cooked expertly that I had a hard time trying to figure out whether it was fried and shimmered in curry or simply just sprinkled with curry spices. There could be a thousand different opinions.

Before I knew it, it was bedtime. I climbed the stairs like a worn out peasant. I never knew that climbing up 24 steps was such an arduous task. My energy just evaporated, that was the only explanation I could come up with. Life was meaningless to me, again. I hate it when only my life turns topsy-turvy and my brother has got plenty of luck to go smooth sailing through out his damned life. Step upon step, I literally carried my legs up. It reminded me of my evening chore with papa when I had to carry pots around to suit his taste. The man couldn’t make up his mind.
“Put it here, no wait. Perhaps, it’s better if it stays put”.
“Hey, don’t run away, I think you should help me to put it somewhere around here. Mom would like it here…….”
I have to add, his taste his horrible. No sense of direction or space. He was creating a complicated maze out of our lawn. The gardener did a better job. God, his life must be boring.

I made it to my room. My head pounded. My eyes moistened. My breath was constricted. I couldn’t breath anymore. My ribs were tightening its grips, making breathing a troublesome and impossible task. Air couldn’t be supplemented for my cells. I was choking, crying, sobbing. Why did a person I love so much betray and crush my tender heart? I felt like running to my bed, covering myself with the blanket. Enclosing myself in the warm, comforting shelter just like a cocoon to a butterfly. I don’t want that pest of a brother to see me like this. That would be the downfall of the century.

My room was dark. I have got to use my remaining energy to switch on the lights and fan. It was painful. I felt my life draining out of my body as I stretched my hands to turn the light on. I realised how granny must be suffering. Her skin that no longer has the power of elasticity and bones that are robbed of calcium giving her osteoporosis. How could she have the energy she has, helping papa take care of brother and I? I felt my pity for her overwhelming me. But she need no longer be alone. I’m a demented child with a throat that is parched dry and direly needs replenishment from the Fountain of Love and Care.

There, the lights are on, I get to crawl into bed now. My God! Bless the Virgin Mary. Am I dreaming? Is this my room? Is that my bed? I can’t believe this. I shall pinch myself for assurance. Are my feet on the floor? I got to thank mommy…