Pocket full of stars

16 [RAHI]

Since the day I met my father, my uncle had been maintaining a death silence around me.

He was guilty, I could sense it.

My aunty was hustling and bustling all the time, trying to break the tension somehow, but failing miserably.

I didn't ask them anything about the appearance of the apparition.

I waited for my uncle to bring up the topic by himself.

It would be fun to see how long he could carry on with the guilt of keeping me in the dark.

He wasn't the only one; my mother was also a part of this plan.

She told me that my father had died after he left the family and as an act of moving on and living life, she never kept a photo of him nor talked about him to me.

But no matter what you do, it is hard to erase a trauma from someone's mind.

And you won't know whether the traumatized person is cultivating the fear or getting over it.

For me, it was the former.

I loved the bone-chilling fear that sends electric sparks through the nerves.

The utter dread and realization of the impending doom, the helplessness of not being able to do anything and the satisfaction from the unreasonable craziness of feeling the stabs all over the body and savouring every bit of the pain.

As a child, while running through the storm and lightning, I wondered whether they were the screams were of fear or the laughter of frenzy.

A week after I met my father, my uncle decided to talk to me on the topic.

"Rahi," he said hesitantly, "sit down for a while, I am going to tell you something. I will talk about it only once so listen carefully."

I sat down obediently.

"Your father had always sent expenses for you...even when your mother was alive." He said and paused for effect.

On getting no reply, he continued, "He visits often, mostly on the days when I am home and you are not. You would hate to meet him, he says, and that's why he comes by to discuss about your future and what you are up to."

The phrase 'discuss your future' got me riled up and I broke into a peal of bitter laughter.

Discussing the future of the child he abandoned is pretty amusing if you ask me.

"So, what did he discuss about my future?" I asked when my laughter ebbed a bit.

Uncle sensed the resentment in my tone and cleared his throat before saying, "Rahi, dear, listen, I know your father hurt you in the past and for that he is always guilty."

"Guilty? Really?"

"Yes, he is and that's why he doesn't come in front of you."

A snarky smile adorned my lips and my voice rang out loudly in the entire room, "Oh really, he was so guilty that he got married again, had a daughter and is living a happy life. What future did he come to discuss? The way he left me, I would not have had a future if a stranger didn't save me. The tree—"

"Rahi," my Uncle interrupted, "Rahi, that was a mistake...all humans make mistakes."

"The tree next to me got struck by lightning," I screamed unnaturally, my body trembling from the remembrance, "the skin on my left hand got scalded from the heat and you say that it was a mistake?"

The burn healed a long time ago but the sensation remained and on nights when it rains, my left hand throbs painfully.

Uncle was about to say something but Aunty stopped him.

But I was taken over by a maddening rage, "Why did you stop him? Let him say what he wants. Go on, tell me that it was still a mistake on his part."

"Rahi," Aunty reprimanded in her strong voice, "go up to your room."

I stood my ground glaring at her.

"Go up to your room, Rahi," Aunty repeated.

Anticipating a pool of tears gushing out of my eyes, I stormed up to my room and slammed the door shut.