The Birthday He Almost Forgot

October 23, 2009 – 7:00 AM

Jadavpur – Aritra's Villa

Aritra stirred as a familiar scent curled into his senses—biryani.

It wasn't a dream. The aroma was real, thick with the essence of ghee, caramelized onions, and slow-cooked mutton. The spices lingered in the air, teasing his sleep-deprived mind, pulling him out of his slumber like an invisible force.

His eyes cracked open. The golden morning sunlight slipped through the gaps in the curtains, painting warm streaks on the floor. The house was… oddly lively for this early hour. Soft murmurs drifted in from the kitchen, punctuated by the occasional clatter of utensils.

Something was happening.

Aritra sat up, ruffling his hair as he tried to piece it together. His last clear memory was from the previous night—watching election results unfold, waiting for dawn, his mind running calculations even in exhaustion. But this… this wasn't election-related.

His brows furrowed as he stepped out of his room, drawn by the irresistible scent.

And then, he stopped.

The scene before him was unexpected.

His mother, clad in a simple yet elegant blue saree, was stirring a large pot on the stove, her expression focused. His father was seated at the dining table, peeling boiled eggs with a practiced ease, his brows furrowed in concentration. But what caught Aritra's attention the most…

Katherine.

She stood at the counter, carefully placing candles on a cake. But it wasn't her actions that made Aritra pause—it was how she looked.

She wore a saree.

Not her usual fitted blouses and formal skirts. Not her casual tops and jeans. But a traditional, deep maroon saree, draped in the most elegant way, the soft silk hugging her form as if it had been made just for her. Her hair, damp from a recent bath, cascaded over one shoulder in soft waves, the scent of fresh jasmine lingering faintly around her.

Aritra had seen her in many ways—confident, calculating, sometimes even vulnerable. But never like this.

She looked… breathtaking.

For a moment, he just stared.

It took Katherine a few seconds to realize he was there. When she turned, their eyes met.

Her cheeks colored slightly, but she masked it quickly. "You're awake."

Aritra blinked, snapping back to reality. "Clearly." His voice was rough from sleep. "What the hell is going on?"

His mother turned, smiling warmly. "Shubho Jonmodin, Aritra."

Aritra frowned.

"Happy Birthday," Katherine translated, a small smirk playing on her lips.

Oh.

Right.

His birthday.

He had completely forgotten.

11:30 AM – The Dining Table Is Set

The table was filled with everything Aritra had grown up loving—steaming plates of mutton biryani, soft-boiled eggs, a side of salad, and a bowl of payesh—the traditional Bengali rice pudding his mother made only on special occasions.

The cake Katherine had brought sat at the center, the candles now unlit after the quiet celebration they had held earlier.

His father took a sip of water before glancing at him. "You really forgot, didn't you?"

Aritra, now seated, leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "There were… bigger things on my mind."

His mother sighed. "That's the problem with you. Always thinking ahead, never stopping for a moment to just live."

Aritra looked at her, then at the table.

She wasn't wrong.

Katherine, seated beside him, picked up her fork but didn't eat. "I didn't think you'd be the type to forget your own birthday," she remarked.

Aritra smirked slightly. "I didn't think you'd be the type to buy a birthday cake."

She shrugged. "Your mother told me. It felt… necessary."

His mother beamed. "She picked a good one, too. Chocolate with cream frosting. Simple but nice."

Katherine gave her a small, almost shy nod. Aritra noticed how she avoided looking directly at him now. Was it the saree? Or was it the fact that, for the first time, she had done something genuinely personal for him?

His father cleared his throat. "So. The elections."

Aritra's grip on his fork tightened for a fraction of a second. He knew this conversation was coming.

His father continued, "BVM… what happened yesterday, that wasn't just luck."

Aritra took a slow bite of his food, keeping his expression unreadable. "Maybe."

His father studied him for a moment before shaking his head. "Politics is unpredictable. But this…" He exhaled. "It'll be interesting to see what happens next."

Aritra didn't reply.

Because he was the one deciding what happened next.

12:30 PM – A Quiet Moment

After lunch, the house fell into a comfortable silence. His parents were in the living room, chatting softly, while Katherine stood on the balcony, looking out at the lake.

Aritra walked up beside her, resting his arms on the railing.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Then, Katherine broke the silence. "You're happy today."

Aritra glanced at her. "Am I?"

She nodded. "I can tell. Even if you're trying not to show it."

Aritra looked out at the water. The ripples shimmered under the midday sun, reflecting the endless possibilities ahead of him.

"Yesterday was important," he admitted. "But today… today reminded me of something else."

Katherine raised an eyebrow. "And what's that?"

Aritra smirked. "That I'm still human."

Katherine's lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something—but instead, she just nodded.

For the first time in a long while, Aritra wasn't thinking about the future.

For now, he just let himself exist.

And somehow… that was enough.