A 15th Birthday:

Knock Knock Knock....

"Daisy.... Daisy..."

Mom's voice.

"Baby, please open the door. We have something for you... are you listening? Is my voice clear to you?"

Knock Knock... again.

"Mmmm... coming, Mom. can you please wait a moment?"

I groaned, dragging my voice with a hint of teenage attitude.

"It's almost midnight... just be patient. I'm coming..."

I muttered, making a disgusted face and pushing my science book to the side. Yeah, I was actually reading that. Not some novel or mystery or romance... just one of my curriculum books. boring, right? That's what everyone says. They claim it's written in a way no one wants to even look at it. And honestly? I kind of agree. But I still enjoy reading science blogs, articles, books and all that stuff. So... whatever.

It looked boring. But once you start reading it? Not that bad.

The chapter I was on was called 'Heredity'. It talked about why you look like your parents, or why you might have your grandma's eyes... or your uncle's crooked smile. Basically, how your family's trait gets passed down to you through generations.

I learned some cool new words in it too--- like traits, characters, inheritance patterns, genes, chromosomes.

I even remember casually flexing those terms in front of people like I was some bio-genius.

But you know what really fascinated me? Something that wasn't even in that textbook.

Since I was just in 10th grade, we didn't have this part yet-- it's taught in higher classes. But I read about it online.

It's called "Genetic memory."

It said something like-- imagine your ancestors went through something really hard, like a traumatic event or they lived in a harsh environment. Now, even you, who didn't live through any of that, might still "remember" it-- because your body stores that pain somewhere deep down.

Isn't that... wild?

Okay, anyway. Let that thought sit there.

I opened the door with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" I muttered.

"Let me in, Daisy," my mom said, smiling. "don't you have manners? When someone's standing at the door, you let them in first. But only if they're not strangers. Got it?

Her voice was soft. warm. but there was that hint of warning behind her smile.

"Okay Okay." I said, stepping aside, "but tell me-- why were you knocking like a maniac in the middle of the night?"

She stepped in, holding something behind her back like it was a secret. Her eyes sparkled a little.

"What... don't you remember?" she said, eyes wide with mock surprise. "It's 12 am. A new day-- March 19th. Anything ringing a bell?"

"Fu---"

"Language, Daisy," she cut me off before I could finish.

I blinked, my expression twisting in realization.

"Oh... right. Damn. I totally forgot-- it's my Birthday."

She laughed lightly. "How does someone forget their own birthday? Anyway, never mind that. look what I brought for you!"

She held out the box she'd been hiding. Inside was a dark blue sweatshirt and plain blue bell-bottom pants.

Minimal. My style. I loved it.

"Thanks, Mom," I said with a quiet smile.

"Also..." she continued, her suddenly filled with effort and care, "I made a chocolate cake for you. with my own hands. It took me a lot of hard work, so you have to cut it. No excuses, no drama. I made it from my heart."

"Ok Ok," I nodded. "I'll cut it. just-- no photos, alright?"

She rolled her eyes playfully. "Fine."

"Where's Dad, though?" I asked, suddenly noticing the silence.

"He had to go for some urgent work... unfortunately. But he sent warm wishes through me," she said gently.

"Hmmm."

I cut the cake slowly, quietly. I took a small piece, placed it gently in her mouth. Then one for myself.

"Happy birthday to you.... Happy birthday to you... dear Daisy..." she sang in a soft whisper, clapping her hands gently like I was still her little girl.

"Thanks," I said, voice barely above a whisper.

she picked up another piece and fed it to me.

"God bless you, baby," she murmured.

I smiled again-- small, tired. but real.

"Ok," she said, shifting into mom-mode, "Tomorow's Saturday. No school. but try to wake up early, ok? you know your grandparents don't like when you sleep till late in the morning."

"Yeah, I know," I said. " They didn't join us?"

"They went to bed early. I didn't dare wake them."

"Hmmm... okay. Good night, then>"

"Good night, baby. sweet dreams."

she smiled and gently pulled the door closed behind her.

As the door clicked shut, silence settled back into the room.

I stared at the half-eaten cake. The clothes were still folded in the box, untouched since I opened them.

And suddenly... I thought of Kathy.

How she used to come to my Birthday parties, even earlier than everyone else. How we danced to silly songs, shared cake with icing all over our faces, and talked about things we didn't fully understand.

I missed her... I really missed her.

My eyes filled with tears before I could stop them.

Does she still remember?

would she think about me today?

Of course she would... right?

she would've called me-- definitely--- if she had my contact no.

I repeated that thought in my head, like a mantra I needed to believe.

And then, slowly, I got into bed. I pulled the blanket up to my face and closed my eyes gently.

Silently... I let myself remember.

Every moment with Kathy.

Every laugh. Every tear. Every piece of my childhood that still had her name stitched into it.

Next day.....

The next morning, my mom woke me up more gently than usual... "Rise and shine, birthday girl," she whispered, brushing my hair back.

It was 7a.m.

I dragged myself to the bathroom, took a long, warm shower, and got dressed. I put on that new blue bell-bottom and paired it with a different plain dark blue t-shirt--- no designs, no logos. just clean and simple. My kind of vibe.

Then I flipped my wet hair in the mirror like I was the prettiest girl in the world.

Whatever, let me have my main character moment.

I walked out into the hall. Grandpa was sitting there in his usual spot-- newspaper spread wide, a cup of tea on the table in front of him.

"Good morning," I greeted.

He looked up and smiled, "Happy birthday, Daisy."

Then, without another word, he slid a crisp Rs.200 note across the table. I took it silently from his hand, gave a small nod, and turned away.

At the corner of the hall, near the small wooden kind of temple, Grandma was kneeling. she was busy doing something with the idols-- maybe changing the flowers, maybe whispering her players. I don't know.

but the second she sensed, she said without turning, "Diasy... come here, receive all the blessings you want from them."

I was halfway to the kitchen when she spoke, I stopped in my tracks. turned slowly, raising an eyebrow.

Here we go again.

Internally, I rolled my eyes. Thought something sarcastic. Something probably not-so-nice. But I didn't say anything.

I walked towards her like I was on autopilot. Because, well... I had to.

I reluctantly joined my both palms together and did what grandma asked-- but not from the heart. It was just muscle memory at this point.

Then suddenly, she dabbed that red powder--Kumkum?, okay whatever its name is--- onto my forehead, murmuring something under her breath. Just another Indian ritual. I kind of hate all of it. But for her sake, I did it anyway. I forced a smile at her. she smiled back.

"God bless you, bete. Happy birthday."

"Thanks," I said softly.

Then I turned and headed straight to the kitchen, stomach growling, looking for something to eat. but mom wasn't there.

"Grandma," I called out, "Where's Mom?"

"She went to the neighbor's-- to invite them for your birthday party tonight," she replied casually.

I froze, eyebrow raised. what the freak...I didn't say it aloud. just screaming it in my head. 

A few moments later, my mom returned-- looking all excited.

"Baby, look! I made your favorite," she said, uncovering the dish on the dining table..."Vada Pav... and mango lassi!" she added. beaming with pride.

I blinked at her. I didn't know what to say.

I forced a polite smile and said, "Mom... can you please come with me to my room for a sec?"

I gently took her hand and led hew away.

As soon as we stepped inside, I turned around sharply.

"What is this, mom? you know I hate cutting cakes. I hate social gatherings. And you just... invited people without asking me? Why do you always do this?"

She blinked. "But baby-- what's wrong in cutting cake? It's just cake! People will greet you, and you just thank them with a smile. It's not a big deal---"

"But that's exactly what I don't want! I'm anti-social, mom! I don't like crowd; I don't like people. You know that. And still---"

"Daisy," she snapped, cutting me off. Her voice sharp but not shouting.

"Don't start ruining the mood. just have your breakfast and cooperate for once. your grandparents are here after years. It's your birthday. It's a coincidence worth celebrating."

she paused, softening her voice slightly.

"I even invited your school friends-- Lana, Ginny... you'll enjoy it."

I clenched my fists. of course she wasn't going to cancel her plans. Why would she?

"And your father wants this too," she added, more sternly.

I didn't say anything. but inside, I was fuming. I felt that usual tightness in my chest-- the helpless kind of anger. It always ends the same: I stay quiet, and everything still happens the way they want. I was already overthinking about tonight.

The noise, the faces, the pressure to smile. The fake small talk. Th suffocation.

I have social anxiety, dammit

she looked at me and gently placed her hands on my head, brushing through my hair.

"I know, baby. I know you have social anxiety. but you need to be social. It's like... exposure therapy, you know? The only way to beat fear is to face it."

she smiled weakly. like that fixed everything.

"Now come. Let's eat breakfast," she said, turning and walking out of the room.

 **************

At night, I was sitting on the wooden chair in the balcony, watching the glittering city lights. There were so many high-rise buildings across the skyline-- their glowing windows flickering like distant stars. The breeze was soft and cold, brushing gently against my arms. It felt calming. still. familiar.

This was a different apartment. we'd moved here five years ago.

then I heard him behind me.

"Happy birthday," my father said with a smile, his voice calm.

I turned slightly, nodding.

"Thanks," I replied with a smile, eyes still on the skyline.

"Everything's alright?" my father asked, softly.

"Ah...hmm," I responded with a fake smile, not turning to face him.

He stood beside me quietly, watching the view like he had nothing better to do.

then he started talking-- casually, like always. about his coworkers. Bout the meetings he had. the things he did throughout the day.

I asked him a few questions too-- trying to sound interested, pretending I understood it all. We even laughed once or twice. Talked about my board exams, about my future.

Then the topic shifted to my childhood. He told me stories-- Things I didn't remember at all. things about me that I never even knew.

After a while, he patted my shoulder and went back inside.

I stayed, alone, still sitting in the only chair there was-- in the balcony.

Then grandpa walked in, He didn't say anything, just stood nearby, silently. But I could feel it-- he wanted the chair. so, I stood up without a word.

because If I didn't, they'd say I was ill-manners, actually... they already did.

I remember this one time, years ago--- I must've been around nine-- when we were visiting their house for a family function. There were a bunch of chairs set up outside on the porch, and I, being me, stacked four or five of them together and climbed up like I was royalty. Sat on top, feet resting on the front grill, feeling all powerful and free.

And then...An old lady showed up.

some old lady-- probably a distant relative-- came downstairs, look at me, and said sharply,

"Hey, girl! Sit properly. behave! you're a girl--- stop acting like a boy. ill -mannered thing."

I was stunned. I didn't even know who she was. but I was furious.

So, I snapped back, "Please mind your own business. you're a guest here, so be one. don't act like my mom, ok?"

She stared at me like I'd slapped her. Then started walking upstairs, muttering things under her breath.

I ran away before she could say anything else, she wouldn't catch me.

Even stuck my tounge out at her like some cartoon villain.

It was bold, maybe rude-- no, not maybe, it is rude. but honestly? what she said was worse.

she told everyone. Mom scolded me. And from that day on, I was the ill-mannered girl in their eyes.

so now, years later, I just stood up quietly. gave grandpa the chair.

then I went inside. put on my watch, sprayed some perfume, still in the same clothes I'd been wearing all day-- just washed my face and called it done.

The hall was decorated so beautifully. Mom had worked hard-- lights, ballons, candles, everything.

slowly, people started arriving. friends, relatives. and just like that... the anxiety kicked in. My palms got sweaty, my heartbeat sped up.

Mom looked at me and whispered, "bete... please try to be nice in front of everyone, ok?"

So, I was.

I greeted everyone. touched my elder's feet. smiled at all the right moments.

People kept saying, "you're growing up, huh!", I just smiled and nodded, like I was supposed to.

then... I saw him, that uncle, the same I talked about in last chapter, that creep man. He was here. Invited, smiling.

He stared at me--- same look, same eyes, same memory. I clenched my jaw, my skin burned, but I said nothing.

I just... avoided him.

Then mom clapped her hands. "Alright everyone! Let's gather-- time to cut the cake!"

People cheered, laughed, gathered around me. But my mind wasn't there.

My body stood at the center of the hall, but my mind... was somewhere else entirely.

It was with her... Kathy.

Every second, every smile, every clap around me-- it all just blurred. I didn't enjoy any of it. I couldn't.

And as the crowd sang, "Happy Birthday to you", I heard something else in my head-- louder than their voices, deeper than any cheer.

Kathy's voice.

Childlike, pure, soft

singing just for me---

"Happy Birthday to you, Daisy...."