We fought
Of course we fought.
It’s what my father and I do before agreeing on anything.
This time it was about which restaurant to have my mothers surprise birthday brunch at.
Three options
Three fights.
One younger brother taking time out to buy some vile nutri-bars, then coming back to watch us argue while saying “Take a bite man, this shit is amazing”.
We all wanted something different.
Dhruv didn’t say anything.
My father and I said a lot.
Mostly to each other.
There was some glaring also.

Anyway, once we’d decided on a place, we found ourselves amicably chatting with each other while leaning against a car and thanking God that Soma had been delayed in coming back home.

Because we feel she works for the Mossad.
Had she been home, there would have been no booking of restaurants.
There would have been no fights.
There would have been no surprise.
She’s a spy. She knows stuff.
Like the time Dhruv and I sneaked the car out and thought she didn’t know.
She knew.
Like the time my father tried to surprise her with jewelry/a holiday/assorted gifts/coming back early from a flight.
She knew.

She knows this stuff because “I use my brain. If you used yours, you’d know too.”
Unfortunately for us, she is that smart.
She also has eyes which she keeps open because she sees things the three of us can’t.
“I can’t find my sneakers.”
“Honey have you seen my wallet?”
“I left my pen on my desk, I think someone’s stolen it.”
She finds all of this in about under two minutes. “If you opened your eyes, maybe you’d find it too.”
I sometimes feel that she hides this stuff herself so she can find it and be the ruler of our souls forever.

Thing is, she is.

The three of us revolve around her like faithful planets. She binds us together with so much love that sometimes I feel I might burst.
She loves giving bear hugs.
She’s the first to make peace because she hates a fight.
She smiles. She smiles like no one else. And she’s sensitive and strong in the best extremes. She once started crying when she found out I’d fallen and got 3 stitches. She also told me to “Stop it, don’t whine, you can do this” when I was admitted in the hospital with something serious.
A perfect balance of MotherMelodrama and Superwoman.

She loves her toolkit as much as her stilettos. Saves bubble wrap for squishing later. Dresses like a million bucks all the time but has tshirts that are 15 years old, with holes, and enough color to give you epilepsy, loves Campari, can waltz like a dream and her favorite superhero is Superman.
She also used to have a look which could to freeze our blood, but she lost that a while ago.

Anyway, we winged the surprise. My father channeled his inner thespian, faked a phone call, he and I faked a fight (to make things seem normal), many winks and thumbs ups later …
Ta daaaa!!!
I don’t think we’ve ever felt this this proud of ourselves at outwitting the mothership.
31st March has always meant the world to us because of our favorite fiery Aries.
We love you Soma
You’re our love, our life.
Happy Birthday!


Published by therunawayjuiceincident

I write about my travels. Intergalactic and otherwise....

5 thoughts on “Soma

  1. Funny everytime someone talks about his/her mom, we all end up saying- mine too, all mums the same stuff!! Your Soma post made me realize how different my mom is, really! She is everything but melodrama. Least expressive, hates hugging coz to her boys are always sweaty/smelling of field or football (even when I have taken a shower), can never find my things, her fav phrase- ‘pata nahi’ and can never smell a rat. She can repeatedly be surprised with almost the same surprise, teehee!!

    The only thing common is my life revolves around her too, yep, like a faithful planet, damn I love how you put it 🙂

    And can I please add I love the way you write, fluid and facile! Kudos!! (I hope you read this and reply, fuck I sound like a silly fan. Fuck. I am.)

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