“Pink, purple and silver are my favorites” she exclaimed with glee as her dark brown eyes danced in merriment and trying to keep her voice down. The room decorated in shades of pink, grey and white with bunny motifs stood ready for the big bash this evening. “Happy Birthday Laila” screamed the banner and soon a spectacular cake will be cut and shared. Candles will be blow, confetti thrown, gifts opened and shared. Games played and fights fought. Birthdays are sure fun especially when it is your 6th birthday. Being 6 was fun or at least she hoped it will.

Pink frilly dress, purple nail polish with glitter, and a happy birthday crown hairband topping her straight black hair – she was a picture of birthday perfection. She hugged her soft rather ragged grey bunny closer and willed herself to calm down. “Calm down Laila, calm down. Count 1 to 10 slowly” she could practically hear her mother. Laila shook her head, shaking the voice within her head and ran to window.

Kneeling on to Queen Anne’s chair by the window, clutching Mr.Bunny hard, her heart pounding with anticipation – she peered outside. Berry Lane stood deserted. Not a soul in sight. It was the usual sight that greeted her every weekday at 4pm. The parents at work, the kids back from school busy hogging on snacks, the sun too harsh for nannies to wheel their wards out, the mailman, the gardeners all done with their respective jobs for the day. It was the usual stillness of Berry Lane. One Laila usually hated but not today. Oh not today. She welcomed the stillness today. No crunching leaves as cars with silent engines slid over them. No horns blared as balls and kids rolled around. No screeching brakes followed by yet another high-pitched lecture from a rather irate parent. Just stillness.

Turning away from the window, Laila looked around the room. The forbidden place. She was not supposed to be her till her parents arrived from work. She was supposed to be in her room, playing with her toys, coloring pages of ducks carrying umbrellas and mice eating cheese. She was supposed to wait till it was time for the party to see the decorated room. But patience was never Laila’s forte. She could not wait till it was time for the party and had sneaked down to take it all in.

Balloons in shades of pink, gray and white filled the room, touching the ceilings, raring to break free and fly away. Balloons with polka dots. Balloons with words on them. Balloons bouncing around just like her. A huge L decorated with pink and white flowers sat right in the middle, Soon food too good to eat will be piled on. Strawberry shortcake, carrot cakes, donuts, carrot sticks and hummus and more. She took in the pile of gifts, wrapped in shiny pink and silver paper, topped with bows and cards, in front of her. Her heart raced with excitement and the prospect of what was inside them.

“Just one. Just one” she told herself as she grabbed the one at the bottom of the pile. All wrapped in pink with a grey bow. It lay there waiting for her to open it. Her hands itched. She shook the box wondering what lay inside. “Would it be a book? Or a puzzle? Maybe a rainbow of colors to paint with” She slowly untied the ribbon. And that is when her patience ran out. She tore the paper throwing caution to wind. “I am in big trouble. Really big trouble”, she muttered to herself as she heard the satisfying crinkling sound the paper made as she tore it open.

“Oh wow!” Laila gasped. Inside the layers of gift paper and cardboard boxes nestled safely a doll – a ballerina doll – a picture of perfection. Laila fell in love. Deeply, irrevocably. The doll in some ways was everything she was not – bright blue eyes with the loveliest and longest eyelashes she had ever seen, the prettiest lips with a perfect hint of smile, glitter and sparkly dress in shades of lilac and purple with lace, ruffles and tulle, shiny shoes to match and to crown it all hair in shades of gold – perfectly coiffured and braided with flowers sewn on top.

She turned her head side to side to savor all the beauty the doll encompassed. Her black braided hair moved side-to-side. To a random stranger, it might appear to be a blissful scene – a girl and a doll engrossed in their own world. Laila, slowly ran her little finger over the plastic figure. Her finger feeling the bumps and curves, touching the silky smooth fabric and lingering on the tightly golden hair and those soft flowers on them.

The flaxen hair just like mommy’s and Rea’s. The epitome of beauty, the crowning glory, a head of flaxen hair. Just something she could never have. “I love you, brown skin, black hair and all. I love you for your smile, the beauty within you and the happiness you bring to our lives. We loved you the minute we saw you and decided you need to live with us” mommy recounted the story of her adoptation every single day.

“Why can’t I have gold hair like you and Rea? I love gold hair. I want it just like princesses and fairies.” she had cried many a times and prayed fervently at nights. She wanted everything the doll resting on her lap had – especially those lovely gold hair. Her heart filled with sobs and unfulfilled wishes. Rage overtook sorrow as she hurled the doll with all her might and pain. The pain of a 6 year old. She sat there surrounded by balloons and gifts, tears pouring down her face and eyes fixed on the blinking blue eyes and flaxen braids of the doll.

This post is a part of the April A to Z challenge. 26 days, 26 letters and 26 short stories. Come back tomorrow for more.