Blooming Flower ✔️

Chapter 15: Same Species

To me, my birthday has kind of lost its importance to me. When I was young, I would scream about having a huge birthday bash, with fatty pizza and a sugar loaf with even more sugary cream on top of it.

Now, it's like somebody decided to come up to me as I was shopping for a nice dress, slap me across the face, and yell at me, "YOU'RE ONE YEAR CLOSER TO YOUR DEATH." Before I knew it, I was going to be old, greying, and complaining about back problems. Because when you're from an Indian family like me, then your family's health history isn't your best friend.

Even though my birthday is the most annoying reminder of how I'm getting old, there was one thing that I appreciated about it more than anything. It was the fact that my family and friends did everything in their power to make me feel as joyous as a woman on her wedding day, waiting to be married to the love of her life.

My parents would always cook my favorite foods, regardless of how much Ananth complained, and Jen would always make me a card, give me something, take me out, or do all three, depending on how much time she had.

Even despite all the happiness surrounding my 22nd birthday, there was one problem this year. He would be leaving for Seattle the very next day. That's what added a sorrowful element to a typically special day. All I wanted to do was cherish my last few hours with Manish before he was to go.

Whether it be through texting or hanging out in person, I wanted this day to be special with my favorite people right by my side. I didn't care what we were going to do. I just wanted a lasting memory to cherish before the chances that we could have that much fun were squashed into bite sized pieces.

"Happy birthday, Ashwini!" my parents greeted, as I walked down the steps to the smell of food cooking in the kitchen.

I gave them a smile, and then Ananth exited the kitchen. "Happy birthday, Jaya," he said, in a tone that wasn't meant to mock or insult me, for once. He gave me a loose, one armed hug, as if I hadn't bathed in weeks and he didn't want to get too close to me. I gave him a slightly annoyed smile, and hugged him back.

"Thanks, bro," I told him, as I followed the scent of food like a dog following the scent of hidden cocaine. My mom handed me a plate of dosa and aloo, which made me smile. The smell was so familiarly nostalgic of the days when my grandmother would make it in our house back in Chennai, and she'd put it next to a tumbler filled with South Indian filter kaapi.

I took it, thanked my parents, and then sat down at the table so that I could enjoy a plate of pure nostalgia. I tore off a piece of the crisp pancake and picked up some of the gently spiced potato with it. I inhaled it, relaxing with nostalgia over the soft potato, the gentle spice, and the delicious crispiness of the dosa.

Today was already off to a decent start, with a healthy dose of positive nostalgia. There was nothing wrong with that. The one thing that I hoped was that somebody wouldn't ruin my special day today.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DUDE!" Jen screamed, as she pulled me into the tightest, most rib-crushing hug in the history of such.

I hugged her back, while trying not to die of suffocation, and choked out, "Thanks, dude!" Jen then realized that I was probably going to fall unconscious any moment now due to the lack of oxygen, so she let me go to breathe. I took a deep breath, and then felt my ribs to make sure there wasn't anything broken or that my lungs hadn't been crumpled into a little ball.

She gave me a slight smile, and then brought out a little bag that she had been holding during the attempted murder. "Sorry for nearly crushing you to death. I got some things to celebrate the fact that you're getting older, if that makes anything better?"