The Birthday Present

Isha sat at the corner of her bed. She held her favourite book in her hands as she read it for the fifth time. She shuffled though its pages seamlessly. She knew all of its lines by heart now. The book was like  a memory to her, one she couldn't let go. She glanced at her digital watch. It was 11:35. Not much time left now, she whispered to herself. Within a matter of minutes, her most awaited day of the year would present itself. 17th of July. And within a matter of minutes, she'd be nineteen.

Her birthday meant the world to her. Obviously, everyone loves their birthday. But Isha lived for her birthday. It was the only day of the year that provided her with a substantial proof that she had a father.

Her father had left Isha and her mother Nandini  when she was eight years old. It devastated her. She simply could not accept the fact that she no longer had a father. Her innocent little mind would fabricate stories, telling her that Daddy had gone to save the world or Daddy was a spy and couldn't come home anymore. She would believe anything that shrouded the truth, for the truth was too much for her to accept.

But her illusions were short-lived. She remembered how exuberant she was on her ninth birthday. She knew in her heart that her father would come and wish her a happy birthday. She would get a big present and they'd go to the zoo afterwards. When her mother asked what she wanted for her birthday, she told her that Daddy would know. She told her that she knew that Daddy would get her a present. She remembered how furious her mother had gotten.

"You're a stupid little girl!" she screamed. "Your father has left us. Don't you get it? He won't come back."

Isha looked at her mother through a curtain of tears. The world that she had created, the world that she had been nurturing so lovingly, was annihilated in a second. Her mother had capsized her world. At that very instant, she knew she would never forgive her. She was broken. She had lost her father. She could no longer trust the stories that her mind had fabricated. Often, she would cry herself to sleep. She felt alone and defeated.

But her grief did not last long. When she turned ten, she received a small box wrapped within a silver paper. It was adorned with a red ribbon. On top of the box, was a small piece of paper that said, Happy Birthday Isha. Father still loves you.

Her heart skipped a beat. Her hands trembled as she touched the note that her father had written. Her mother was astonished. She could not believe her eyes. But Isha gave little notice to her, she was a cynic. No wonder father had left her. But he hadn't left Isha. She ran into her room with her present. She carefully removed the ribbon and the silver wrapping paper, and stored them in her drawer. She opened the box and jumped with joy. It was the doll that she had always wanted. She had no idea how her father got to know about it. Maybe he was keeping an eye on her. Maybe he secretly followed her around. She smiled at that thought. She was brimmed with happiness. Her last birthday had revealed to her that she no longer had a father. But her tenth birthday convinced her, that not only she had a father, but he also happened to be the best in the world.

Since her tenth birthday, she had always received a present from her father. It was more than anything she could ask for. A little girl's dream had come true. She had found her father. Every 17th of July, she would a receive a present, wrapped in silver paper and a red ribbon, that personified her father.

Her mother would always look at those presents in disgust. She would mumble something to herself angrily and leave the room. But Isha didn't care about her mother's approval. Maybe she was jealous. Her mother had never gotten a gift on her birthday. This made Isha feel special. Father loved her only.

She got a digital watch on her eleventh birthday. Since the hands of a clock made no sense to her, she absolutely loved her digital watch. The following year, she got a dress. On her thirteenth birthday, she received a book entitled The old man and the sea. She had never read a book before, so this was unprecedented territory. But after reading, she starting adoring that book. Every year, her father would gift her something that would bring a speck of light in her otherwise dark world.

Isha let out a smile as she recollected herself from the pensive of memories. It was 11:52 now. She put down her book that said The old man and the sea. She opened her drawer and took out all the silver wrapping paper she had earned over the years. A new silver paper would be added to her collection soon. She ran her hand though her dark flowing hair. If only she could meet her father, spend a day with him. But she would suppress these longings. For she was happy with what she had.

She had often thought about writing to her father, to thank him for all the gifts. At the age of 12, she had written her first letter for her father. But since, she didn't know where he lived. She could not send it to him. She couldn't ask her mother, for she was repelled by the mere thought of her father. So she kept the letter with herself. So every year she would write a letter to her father, describing in detail how she was swept off her feet by his present. She had a latent feeling in her heart that she would meet her father someday. And when that day comes, she would be ready with her letters. She had a pale yellow page and a blue pen ready for this year. She'd write to him after receiving the gift.

She was started by the sound of her alarm. She looked at her watch. It was the 17th of July and she was nineteen years old. She jumped back to her bed and closed her eyes. The morning would bring her the gift of joy, the gift of her father.

She opened her eyes. It was 9:30. Her gifts always arrived around 10 a.m. She got up in a flash and hurried towards the bathroom. She took a quick bath and wore the yellow dress that she had kept aside for this occasion. She put it on and ran down the stairs. She found her mother peeling potatoes in the kitchen. Her mother wished her a happy birthday. But it felt more of a courtesy than a joyful wish. Isha didn't mind. The highlight of the day was about to manifest. She opened the door of their apartment and found a box wrapped in silver with a red ribbon, placed on the floor.

                                                       _____________________________

Nandini watched her daughter as she ran towards the door. She felt elevated to see her daughter so happy. But of course, it wasn't always this way.

The loss of her father had left Isha bereft of any kind of joy. She would sulk over him for days. Unable to see her daughter in the abyss of loneliness, Nandini bought her a gift on her tenth birthday. It was a doll. Isha would keep staring at it in the market, so Nandini thought it would be the ideal present for her. But she knew that her daughter wouldn't truly be happy with it. So she disguised it as a gift from her father.

Nandini recalled how Isha's eyes had lit up with joy when she held that gift from her father. To prove its authenticity, Nandini would despise the gift whenever Isha received it. Unfortunately, her daughter's happiness came at a price. As Isha grew fond of her father, she also developed a strong hatred for her mother. But, Nandini was ready to pay any price for her daughter's happiness.

Nandini stood outside the kitchen as her daughter ran past her. A silver looking box in her hands as she darted across the hallway.

"I'm going to write to him!" she exclaimed as she ran into her room.

Nandini remained rooted at her spot, as a tear slid across her cheek. If only she could be the recipient of that love. She had lost her daughter in an attempt to let her believe that she had a father. She wiped the tear off her face as she kept saying to herself, "She's happy, you're happy."