Then Jagath points at the skeletal, lifeless body on the bed next to the kitchen slab. He continues in his low, soothing voice, ‘We know you remember him differently.’
Daksh’s father looks a far cry from the salt-and-pepper corporate person I remember him as. Cheeks sunken, eyes surrounded by black moons, bones sticking out like a famine-stricken cow. He looks more dead than alive.
I walk towards his bed to touch his feet. His lower body is covered with a blanket. There’s only one of them and I’m ashamed that his disability makes me flinch. Uncle looks at me unblinkingly. Then, with a groan, he turns and faces the wall.
‘Baba’s tired,’ says Rabbani. ‘Should we play?’ She holds up the Ludo board.
For two hours, Rabbani, Daksh, Jagath and I play Ludo over helpings of namkeen and tea. We keep playing over the sound of their father’s heavy breathing echoing in the room. It seems like someone’s stepping on his rib cage, crushing his lungs, killing him slowly. Zeenath’s warning hadn’t prepared me for anything like this. The smiles and the laughs on everyone’s faces seem out of place in a house that’s collapsing on itself.
Daksh’s eyes flit to the clock.
‘We should cut the cake,’ he tells Rabbani. ‘You’ve got to sleep on time. I don’t want to spend one more morning being scolded by your Archana ma’am.’
Rabbani sighs theatrically. ‘Okay, only because it’s your birthday,’ she says. She folds up the Ludo board.
Zeenath excitedly gets the cake box. Jagath brings a knife. Daksh brings out a few paper hats. He’s more excited than a guy his age should be about his birthday. I’m surprised he has found a way to be happy. As he makes me wear a hat, he notices the surprise in my eyes.
‘Don’t look at me like that, it’s tradition!’ he says excitedly. ‘I have always celebrated my birthday.’
‘Why?’
‘They aren’t life-changing events, they are life-giving events. You should maintain the sanctity of a few things.’
I remember the tattoo on his chest—Rabbani’s birthday.
He walks to his father and gently wakes him up. He props him up against a few pillows. Uncle looks blankly at us as if he’s confused about where he is. His eyes are glassy. The words from the newspaper clipping ring in my head:Driver lost control. Four men dead.If the writer were here, he would have added more details.The driver’s family has now moved to Mumbai, where the husband is now a husk of a person, having lost happiness and a part of his leg. The driver’s son is now taking care of his six-year-old sister.
Zeenath pushes her elbow into me. ‘Smile! If Daksh can smile, so can you.’
Daksh drags a small table near Uncle’s bed and puts the cake on it. ‘You guys have got to sing or I’m not cutting the cake,’ he tells us.
His joy on his birthday seems almost comical in the midst of all the sadness this house is submerged in. As he closes his eyes before he blows on the imaginary candles, I can’t help wondering what he’s wishing for. We sing a muted, awkward ‘Happy Birthday’, and he feeds Rabbani, Uncle, Jagath, Zeenath and me in that order.
‘Are we getting that thank-you speech?’ asks Zeenath.
‘What is the thank-you speech—’
Before I can finish my question, Daksh interrupts me with a laugh. ‘Thank-you speeches are essential, Aanchal. To look back and feel that there were some things that made the year worth it. Like a highlight reel, if you will. And I do this thank-you speech for people who mean the most to me. So here it is.’
He rubs his hands excitedly. With a huge, gorgeous smile, he begins, ‘First of all, Rabbani Dey.’
Rabbani squeals in delight.
‘Thank you, Rabbu, for being you. You’re the cutest cute person I have ever seen, the cutest button, a piece of my heart, like a smallchhottomomo. I have checked God’s register of cute babies in descending order and it starts with you, and it ends with you. You’re the funnest, most incredibly well-behaved, kind and awesome kid in the entire world! I don’t know what I would be without you. You’re amazing and I’m the luckiest Dada in the whole wide world and beyond!’
‘Dada is best!’
He turns to Uncle. ‘Thank you, Baba.’
Uncle doesn’t look up at him.
Daksh continues nonetheless. ‘Thank you, Baba, for bringing me into this world and taking care of us while you could. There was a lot of love in your silences and now I recognize that. We have been through a lot, but I am sure there are many years in the future that will be easier than the ones gone by. You’re my Baba, and I will always love you.’
He turns to Jagath.
‘Thank you Jagath, my first best friend, who gives meaning to the words “best friend”, for being my rock and my ship-builder, for steadying me, for always being there. In the world of SIPs and stock options, you’re my fixed deposit. And thank you for saving all that money by catching the Deal of the Days and what not.’
He turns to Zeenath.
