chaitanya : living a story, living a lie

My ice-cream, a cat and the Christmas Eve

Nothing bad happens on Christmas Eve… you think so? Well, let me tell you one of my worst Christmas Eves. It was windy cold night back in 2008. My cousins were home and we were having a lot of fun! Yes, of course, fun because we were what? 8 or something at that time. And now we are all grown up – still having more fun. Though I get awkward a lot. And lose my temper sometimes. Hard to believe? Trust me I am kidding. So we were eight. And in a dire need for ice-cream that night! Parents usually did not use to agree for “ice-cream time” during winters. But that night they had to. No one can stop something bad from happening, can they? Can you? (Yes you can!)

We all decided to go out for a walk to the market and buy our favourite icy treats. It was really quite. We did not see a lot of people on the road that night. Sleeping, maybe. I have never really had any interest in my neighbours. Even today after 17 years living in the same house I cannot name a single neighbour! Nevermind. In about 10 minutes, after really slow walking we reached the shop. And we were on that ice cream … Ummm what do we call that, a fridge?

Then we bought them and unsurprisingly I got my regular strawberry cup. I don’t know what kind of attraction I have to strawberry coloured foods. I need strawberry colour in my milk too. And my room was pink like till a day ago. But now it is blue (so that I can paint it red at that moment). Feels weird.

Walking back toward my house I was really into it. But I did not open the cup yet. My thoughts were to go back home, sit with ease in my quilt and then eat it! Oh Lord, why you planned it in a completely different way? Why?

A black cat jumped over me and took my cup from me! I got paralysed with shock! I don’t know if it was because of the cat jumping over me or it was the realisation of losing my ice-cream. My strawberry ice-cream. I started crying. Thinking of that night still, makes me cry. Standing in the middle of the road. I looked in front and my parents were not there. My cousins were not there. I was alone. And without my ice cream.

The last thing I remember about that Christmas Eve is waking up from this dream, crying and screaming at my parents, “Get me my ice-cream, and call the police!” Repeating it again and again. Screaming, “Strawberry ice-cream!” I still feel lucky enough that nothing ever has happened with my food in any of my dreams. But now I am scared of dreaming, I am scared of sleeping. People die and I don’t like that.



One response to “My ice-cream, a cat and the Christmas Eve”

  1. Errrr says:

    Even black cats steal. And they call me racist.

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