Love Amidst The Chaos

11| Breakfast with boys.

• Esha •

I've never been a morning person or an early bird, but perhaps a night owl. I loved nights. The peacefulness of night, utter silence it induces eliminating the awful monotonous of the day from one. The moon and its celestial accompanies that embellish the black sky along with the gentle zephyr that stirs, for me night is a synonym for peace, life and me.

Especially reading the never ending one more chapter of a book, watching just one more episode to the whole season of a show and even studying for the exams or baking at times, I love doing it at night. I feel more focused and energetic.

Not that it has much difference compared to my day. They are similar. Because a day I spend here in this huge mansion I call home which actually lacks the warmth I believe home provides, is alike night. All day I'm all alone, no noise, no humans around, have three meals a day all alone, and at times with the house help's kids because the silence sometimes is too suffocating.

Times like those I wonder why people crave silence and solitude so much. Perhaps, it might be quite peaceful for a while to have the craved silence, you might find the solitude joyful. But for me, who's been living in this solitude from the time I can remember, it's not the same. I crave warmth, care and some attention, none of which I ever received till now.

But now, I'm receiving it more than ever. The four men I've never even known before until a week are providing me all of this in just a week, every platonic feeling I've never received from my own family.

My father, the busy man he is, could barely sum up any time for me. It was once a week we had time to spend together during my high school days. Soon after I moved out to Bangalore for college it was once in a blue moon, once in months. Even when I came home during vacations, I was to spend it here alone.

Talking about my mother, well, she is even distant. It's times when her PR advises she remembers I am there and probes for dinner or lunch for family time. Since the day she moved out of this house after divorce, when I was twelve, the times I've met her could sum up in just a hand. It is mostly during the festive event hosted by any of my mom and dad's mutual friends or during the unavoidable dinners.

Her not being around me should be the least of my concern considering I never had any pleasant memories with her, despite that her absence haunted me. And the truth that she didn't even want joint custody of me unless she thought not having it would affect her reputation and image makes it worse.

Yes, even twelve years later at the age of twenty-five it hurts me as much as it did when I was twelve. The feeling of being unwanted to your own mother is the worst kind of misery.

Perhaps, all this darkness my past elucidated on me compels me to love the darkness of night, the familiarity it has with my life.

Or perhaps the light chases me all around filling up a void in darkness.

Just like right now, as I sit by the balcony and the soft hue of morning sun hits my skin and warms it up. But what's more warming than the sun or its light is the phone and the time to time messages that appear on the screen from my family group.

Not yet family, but I won't say they aren't either.

Because the set of four men who're going to be my family, whom I met just weeks back has kept me intact with everything I never got from my own family. The platonic love, care and comfort. The very comical way they talk and never ever fail to pull me into their chatting session even though it has nothing to do with me.

To be frank and honest, I've never seen such welcoming people before.

The group is so full of life and lively people.