It was a
cold, damp night in Jamshedpur. And the time around midnight, was not the one for a 2 year toddler to be awake. Predictably, when clutched in
your mother’s arms, you stepped out from the cab which had brought you to our
new home from the railway station, you were fast asleep. We had grih-pravesh at
our new home and a fair number of people had gathered. Now, sweetheart, at that
time you were too young and too sleepy to be the star. Everyone rushed outside
to see and greet your parents- my Bhaiya and Bhabhi. And the commotion woke you
up. Miffed at not finding yourself the centre of attraction, you started wailing at the top of your
voice. And THAT always used to work. Some tried to get you a candy. Some tried to make
funny faces at you. Some showed their own faces to you – hoping you will find
it either funny or ghastly and stop crying. And not content with all this some
started to make different types of sounds, no noises actually as they usually do. Noises which they
thought were funny but must have been harrowing for you. In the process you had
refused the efforts of your grandparents, my parents, some other brothers and
sisters of mine and possibly your own parents as well. I was at the back of the
crowd sulking at all the people who had made you wake up and cry so badly. Then
through the yellowish gleam of the Petromax lamp with an overused mantle, you
somehow saw me at the end, last of the line. I am sure if I were you, I wouldn't have identified myself. But within a few moments there was confusion on your
face which stopped the crying. Then shock and finally you smiled. At me.
Now, I have
been singled out in the crowd many a times before. Sometimes because somebody thought that I was more intelligent, sometimes more studious, sometimes a better
cricketer, sometimes a better TT player but always there was some reason. But there
was no reason your smile singled me out on that day. I had done nothing and I
had not seen you in almost 3 months now. A third person might say that that was
the most pointless smile I have ever received. But for me, I felt as privileged
as any manifestation of unconditional love this universe could conspire for me.
A couple of
years back from that night, when you were born; I was a guy out of school,
having failed to gain admission in the college of his choice, having dropped an
year and somewhat losing focus in his life. And you were too tiny and I too distracted
for you to be the focal point of my life. And moreover you were busy. Busy; mostly
sleeping, finding time to cry and finding occasions to look sweet and
cuddly. I too was busy. Sometimes studying
but mostly pretending to study. And in between finding time to fret about
whether to hold you in my hands for the fear of dropping you and ultimately
rejecting the idea. You see, I learnt
early to shrug responsibility. But still, slowly we started to find time for
each other.
As we grew
up, we found stuff about each other. You discovered that Chachoo was one
person in the household who could be relied upon to find utter music in your
inane acts on a drowsy afternoon when everyone else was asleep. And I started to get to know that you were a curious
child. Curiosity, which could even trump your urge to cry. So every time you
started to cry, I used to take you to the window on the balcony and balance
you there with you clutching the window sills. I still can’t decide what exactly
used to make you stop crying but it used to work. Maybe the fascination with
the slow, rhythmic glow of the Diwali lights adorning the balcony or that view
of the world from a little bit higher and the wonder how you were managing
without falling. The simplest answer was that I was behind you without even
letting you know about it but in your eyes I found a child’s curiosity which
can make us biggest pundits if only we retain it for our lifetimes. The happiness
with which your fingers touched those tiny light bulbs when they used to glow after
being dim for a while made me want to be a child forever. Some of my friends
say that I have been a child ever since. I tried to bottle up some of your innocence,
curiosity and happiness inside me but at some level it hasn’t worked well
enough. Life caught up and before I could realize, I was too grown up, too
cynical. I hope and wish that you do not grow up. Keep that child inside you
forever.
.
Finally to finish and just to make you jealous, I hope you experience the unbridled joy when a 2
year kid recognizes your voice on the loudspeaker phone and goes “Cha…choo”
when all she knows are words like “ma,” “pa” and other such monosyllables.
I wish you realise how a small kid can look oh so big when she thinks
that it’s a good idea to lie and go asleep on his Chachoo’s growing tummy
because beds have gone passé.
I hope when
you grow up to what my age presently is, you have someone who tells this to you
when you get too busy of work, “Kitne din se aap milne nahi aaye. Kabhi aao
na. Itna din ho gaya.”
Till then,
keep adding to this list.
