Confession of a Sleepless Child

It is past midnight, and I feel terrible. I just want to wake up my parents, who're sleeping in next room and say sorry. A big apologize.

They've come to my place yesterday, and today itself I yelled at them. Just hours before. And from the moment, when I shut my door down - switched off light and laid down on bed, their flabbergasted faces were all over my closed eyes. Sleep is gone. I have done something terrible. So I have to confess. I opened back my eyes, switched on light, and have started vomiting all my sins and broken promises all over the screen of laptop. It’s funny, but a must, if you believe in the power of confession.

One of my favorite rituals with parents is post-dinner gossip. We sit across the sofa or chairs and then talk about anything. My father talks about philosophies and country and politics, and my mother describes the family matters – quarrels, marriages, deaths – all those stuffs in minute details. For a better part of the year, I miss most of this particular ritual.

Today, they were detailing a recent fight that happened at home back in Kolkata between them and my elder brother’s family a few days back. First it was interesting. The outburst of childish egos and meaningless 'serious' stuff.  I commented a little but listened more. But gradually the detailing of the brawl was more graphic and the bitterness of it was smothering me. Now, I am not my parents - the level of understanding and patience is also much lower comparing to them. While even after facing the acrimonious fight they were composed and cool about it; I, who was not even close to it, on the contrary became suddenly sullen and surly and began blaming them instead – for allowing my elder brother to stay with them and fight with them and all.

Nope. That’s not all. I snapped my mom and stood up abruptly. I said, "It's enough mom. I don’t want to listen anymore". She tried to finish her sentence once more, and again I snapped. "Please stop mom". I went to bathroom, and slammed the door behind me. I washed my face, and looked at the mirror, and then I heard the hushed laugh of my father. As if he was amused by my inability to even listen the experiences they were facing everyday back at home. I couldn’t stay longer at bathroom, as they had to use it too. So I came out, told good night to them (they were still seated on sofa), and shut down the door of my room.

But they are all over now even at this closed room and my sleep has deserted me. This time, I promised to be extra nice to them, and in the very second day itself I showed them my real self – that, I can’t handle reality – that, I’m not sensitive enough to listen and empathize with them – that, I’m also a rude arrogant fool, who conveniently blames his own parents, rather than appreciating their love and care for us.

I don’t know if they’re angry to me or just disappointed! Maybe, they’re okay. Maybe, I’m thinking too much. Or, maybe, they’re disheartened.

Tomorrow is office, but before that I need to make it up for them.

And thank you guys, for reading this shit. It’s almost two. Need to sleep. Ciao.