The Anonymous Guest

Beta, bring me those jalebis nah”. The shrill voice echoes through the evening chatter, for the hundredth time today. My parents are busy with the incoming guests gathered for my brother’s seventh birthday. I rush to the kitchen to bring in the hot jalebis and chocolate cake prepared for the guests. I am wearing a simple black T-shirt paired with my home pajamas, my makeup incomplete. Birthdays are supposed to be celebrations, but I am tired of catering to the whims of my aunt, also known as, the jalebi-seeker. He turns seven today. All my relatives and a few of his friends have come to our house to celebrate with him. A faint tune of Happy Birthday song floats in the background, reminding us of the event. She calls me close but declares loudly enough for the whole house to hear, “You have gained weight. ”I stand there, stunned at her senseless stance. She goes on, addressing my mother, “Please tell her to exercise and cut all the sweets and junk foods”, while holding a piece of rich chocolate cake in her own hand.My aunt shakes me, indifferent to the effect her words are causing to my heart. She asks me, “Do you have a boyfriend? Maybe that’s why your studies are ruined.”I am unable to talk or move. By now, the guests have shattered and my parents have busied themselves, assuming that it was a normal conversation. I look for my mom, but she is nowhere to be found. After few endless minutes, I turn to my aunt and open my mouth, uttering “ Aunt, stop talki-”

“Please, Come Outside! It’s already ten, our son has school tomorrow”.My meek protest is overshadowed by my Uncle’s deep, authoritative voice, who was in the patio all this time, sipping drinks with my father.My aunt bids me goodbye, gathers her kid and walks forward towards the main door. I call back but my voice is inaudible amidst all the noises of the night being wrapped.I stand there and the tears finally start falling. I get flashbacks of her harsh tone and am introduced to a feeling so bad and insecure that I rush up the stairs to my bedroom and lock myself. I retire to bed and stare up to my ceiling, ashamed that I wasn’t able to stand up for myself. I feel surprised how often these things happen in our daily lives, how the 'speaker' and the people surrounded, are oblivious to your emotions and feelings and how little it affects their lives. Here I am, bawling my eyes out with an unknown feeling of shame, hurt and disappointmentwhile my aunt has already fallen asleep in her bed thinking about what paranthas to make for her kid's tiffin tomorrow.