"Blow the candles, make a choice", I heard them cheer
I closed my eyes shut :confused , claustrophobic!
I smelt more of fear and less of hope,
"Yay baby, you gonna get it answered", they further added.
"But mm I…", the wind blew my words
I smiled, I often smile when words deceive me.
As I pushed the sheets towards my naked past
It sent shivers down my spine and pit belly
There it was coiled ready to raise it's hood
A thousand unsung tales of misery
Locked within a book called childhood.
They say it right, we can't fight past our past
I say, we are never out of it
It stays deep down raising it's hood
One sweeping chance and it hits you hard
How do I tell you , I could never make the wish
I never had the choice!
I am the eldest grandchild in my family. And being the eldest, I was pampered a great deal by my grandparents. My aama (grandma) and baa (grandpa) always shielded me from every possible dangers including thrashings from maa. I have pleasant memories of evening story sessions as grandpa took me to bed. Aama would oil my hair and tie pony tails which resembled coconut trees that I used to draw. Sundays meant elaborate sessions with my grandparents. Baa would trim my nails, aama would fondle me to sleep. Their bed room was literally my playing room, my story book reading room, my painting room and what not. With time, as I grew, I got a room of my own but their room was still my favourite one. When I left for hostel, I missed them more than I missed my parents. It was in the year 2014, I had come home after my exams when aama received a pressure stroke . She couldn't make it. I had spent a month as he lay sick on her bed. All of a sudden, there was a role reversal. I could
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