Birthday Bleating

It is like E=mc², you know…

I mean which you know by your heart and swear to god on it, with out quite understanding (for those people with I.Q. level equal to me and my dear friends) how it really helps you in life when you come short of 100 Rs or for those of you whom I envy 100$ or 100£, when you want to buy the most unneeded thing, like something really not needed… I can’t find a good enuf example!

I used to think, hmmm… I grew up, now am matured enough to take matters in my own hands. From now on I dictate my own terms and I rule my world, atleast as of now.

I went to my father and said, “Hey Dad, howz you. Fine, now that its my birthday what do you think of my measly pocket money, huh?”. He is immature enough to understand me or my needs. So he smiled at it and continued to read through the daily news paper.

Very soon old man, very soon, I thought and furiously left the room to join my mom in the kitchen. She is very busy doing the household. She is the most unambitious woman I ever met. She is unable to complete the same task from years, precisely from the day she entered this house. Oh! The home needs a change.

And I started asking my mom the same question on the hike, due to the increased cost of living these days. Go and checkout(not online), even the prices of diappers are hyped!

She told me, that she can do nothing in this matter, the best she can do is to cook the thing I like the most, for that day. Hell…

And there is no one to help in this home except Me!

And I sat watching the T.V, with no better thing to do on my own birthday. I was seriously thinking on how to frisk big money today to go out and throw myself a treat. I have to celebrate my birthday, yeah that too in a big way. Because from now on I am going to plan how I am going to live, I am going to do whatever I want to do, I am goin…..

Whack… I was shocked, genuilnely!

Another Whack… Who is out of their mind to touch me, another…

My mom is furious.

And much to the astonishment of myself, to a grown up like me, on my birthday, I started crying.

My father came running into the room (he is still smiling) and took me to the next room carrying in his hands.

“How many times I told you not to spoil the carpet?” - I heard my mom’s voice very clearly, over my fathers lullabies as I drift into my sleep in my wooden fortress… Cradle my pa calls it!

I am going no where mom, I’ll be back next birthday…

Thanks 2 Ram and Stewie!