"The family is the first heaven that we get on the earth."
A sliver of moonlight spilt into the room, not enough to ignite the fiery hues of the Indian rug, but enough to steer between the rough wooden chairs to the exit beyond where hush noises were coming off.
A scarce flash was suddenly illuminated in the darkroom accompanied by the incursion of three shapes who were walking on their toes to minimise the rustle of their feet's noise against the linoleum floor.
"Payal, how much?" a man rustled in an extremely muffled voice and looked at a young girl who was having a very delicate thing in her hand along with a knife. "Dad, ssh, it has some time to go, now don't converse. I'll remind you," the young girl admonished in a coherent tone and skulked behind the thick drapes along with two other musketeers of her crew as she just saw a movement in the person who was the master of this room, currently slumbering on his bed.
After a pregnant silence of five minutes, the three musketeers slid off the drapes and started chorusing in a joyful tone, "Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to Scooby-Doo, happy birthday to our Scooby-Doo". Because of their vociferous warbling and the sudden flash of glitter on his perceptions, the master of the room for whom the 'birthday song' was purred, stirred up abruptly and saw how his best personages were assembled in front of him with a chocolate cake in their hands.
Another astonishing birthday surprise, wasn't it?
He promptly got up from his pallet and embraced his parents in utter love and respect for them as they both wished him, affectionately, "Happy birthday, son". His sister was second in the row to be hugged by him.
Last evening due to sheer tiredness and overload, he had languished early and that's why he was completely oblivious of his birthday as his mind usually was filled with the thoughts of plots, buildings, hotels, restaurants and other real-estate stuff. Being the managing director of a real-estate company was a tiring responsibility, both corporally and psychologically.
And this birthday surprise was the gush of fresh air in his humid, tiresome life.
Even at twenty-eight, he was like a little kid for his birthdays. His mother would make him a chocolate chip cake and he'd bounce out of bed like he was still in grade school. And as if it was a legacy, he'd cut the cake with the companionship of his parents and sister, and then after having the sweet doughnuts, they'd all retire to their room, but not before giving him an exceptional gift like always.
"Our Dhruv is now twenty-eight, finally, that calls for a big party," the father of the birthday boy proclaimed joyously and cherished the chocolate cake along with his family of four.
****
The sky was black, tranquillity married to the poetry of stars. It was the softness that called the body and brain to rest and let the heart go to its steady rhythm. Night came as a reward of sorts, a restfulness above to calm the soul.
But one soul was bereft of any sleep as she had deadlines to meet for the next day venture. The humming sound mixed with a dash of the discordant vibration of the fan and the clicking sound of the keyboard keys were resonating in the chamber, giving her droopy eyes and fatigued body ample vociferous motivation to continue her work which would've completed hours ago if not for her mother's untimely intrusion.
She reminisced how she was dictated by her mother to cook for the whole family as in their eyes she was nothing but a paying maid to them.
"We have educated you, so you should be grateful to us and follow our orders. At least you could do this much to us," her mother had always made sure that she was timely warned of all the charity they had done to her.
And like any kind, gentle, gratitude-filled human, she had always tried to do her best to return off all their bits of help, the philanthropy that they had done to her since her childhood.
Stepmothers were worst; hers was no exception but she never let her stepmother harm her mental peace and tranquillity. For her, her profession and her little time in an orphanage every Sunday was enough inspiring to keep going on with her life even with the harsh reality of her personal life where she was always a consequential, golden egg giving brooder to them.
They never harmed her in any physical way but they never left a chance unturned to break her, mentally and emotionally. Their words, their remarks, those had always broken a little part of her but she could care less. At least they gave her a name, an innocuous shade on her head and education - the most important thing for which she would be always indebted to them.
Working as a software engineer in a pre-eminent firm, she was earning well; having a family of four which included her father, stepmother and her stepsister, she was having a moderate life; but one thing was missing amid all this.
Love.
The four-lettered word from which she was always bereft of since her childhood. She couldn't remember a pleasant memory of her antiquity which she could cherish any day.
Her life was very ordinary and monotonous - just like the compilation task of the excel sheets at her hand which was given to her today contrasted to her designation as a software engineer.
Sighing profusely and stifling a yawn, she continued the clicking of her laptop keys and the churning of her mind for the needful edits which were being written and recorded in her folder, titled 'Ayushi Miscellaneous'.
The night would be too long for her.