The Gift

 “Nich!” Mom shouted as I switched on the tv.

“Not again,” I uttered, picking up the plate of choco vanilla cookies.

“Can’t you hear?” Dad arrived out of the blue.

“Dad, not now. Can’t we do it later?” I munched on the cookies.

“You’re leaving tonight! Go and help Mom in packing.”

“I don’t understand. What’s the point of giving gifts every single year?” I complained. “There are so many lovely gifts that you've brought. And . . . and, I simply don’t want to give them away. Not all, at least.”

“If your gifts can make some people happy, what’s the harm?”

“Okay, okay,” I stopped Dad immediately.

Gulping the remaining cookies with the glass of milkshake, I switched off the tv and threw the remote on the ground.

What if I was a normal child? Like, someone else? I wouldn’t have to b bothered about this ‘gifting season’! Do I get any gifts? NO! Then, why should I gift others? Oh, it’s such a curse to be so rich.

“Finally,” Mom looked at me. “Now get me that red dress we brought for Charlie. Fast!”

Oh, no! She remembers, she remembers about that red dress.

“Where’s that dress? It needs to go inside your suitcase,” Mom panicked.

“That dress . . . that red dress . . . it’s lost,” I lied.

“Lost?”

“I’m . . . I’m sorry.”

“Wait,” Mom opened the wardrobe.

My heart started beating loud against my chest. My breaths became heavy. Warm, little sweat buds arrived on my forehead even in the cold weather.

No, Mom. Not the last shelf, please. God, make Mom overlook the last shelf full of junk, especially the green packet. Please. She knows that I like that dress. If she finds it tucked up and put away neatly inside the green packet, she would—

My fear of getting caught didn’t let me imagine the further consequences.

“Hmmph!” Mom sat on the bed with a thud. “That red and white dress would have been such a match to your dress.”

“My dre—dress?” I asked.

“Yes. The other day Dad got the same dress for you,” Mom replied.

Shall I tell her that it’s not lost? Shall I tell her that I’m the one to keep it away from her eyes and hands? Will she be hurt? Will I be thrashed badly?

“Ummm, Mom . . .” I went up to the wardrobe. “Maybe, it has got mixed up with some of the old junk here,” I said, running my hands in searching for the green packet.

“Don’t dirty your hands. There’s nothi—oh, you found it!”

Mom’s eyes twinkled as I took the red and white fur dress out of the packet.

Honk! Honk!

“Nich, are you ready?” Dad’s voice came from the hall. “Rudolph, is here.”

“This is yours,” Mom pulled out a silver bag from her closet.

I peeped in. A red and white fur dress with a red cap. It was beautiful. It was mine.

As I sat in Rudolph’s cab with all the gifts piled up around me, I switched on my mobile and scrolled down to my favourite song.

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way . . . “

I moved my head to the funky beats of the remix version as the cab journeyed through the clouds of the starry night sky.