By Meghna Suresh
And finally, after what seemed like an interminable misery,
There she was.
Borne out of all their invocation,
Looking like a plum.
Wrapped in snowy bands of soft cotton,
They couldn’t help but compare her to an ‘Angel’.
As she was to be called, from then onwards.
It was more than perfect a name,
For the couple, now-turned parents.
It reflected their true perception of her,
To them, she truly was ‘an Angel from the Heaven’.
As he took her in his powerful forearms, gently yet firmly,
Smiled the grandmother, at the sight.
It was quite contrary to his usual demeanor, the softness,
Though she had witnessed it once before.
On the day when he had tied the knot with his lover,
She had watched her ‘son’ turn into a ‘husband’.
And as she stood beside him yet again,
Watching him hold his just-born daughter close to his chest,
As the mother-in-law of his wife,
As the grandmother of his daughter,
She could tell that it was yet another deliberate transformation,
From a ‘husband’ into a ‘father’.
As he placed his finger over her miniature-sized palm,
Joyfulness emerged in his heart.
When she gripped it with all her fingers, a little too tightly,
As though she never wanted to let go of it,
“Babies do that, it’s a reflex”, said the doctor.
Wrapping his fingers around her tiny little hand,
“Yes, sweetheart, I am right here.” said he, to his Angel.
“Look at you being all protective.” teased the wife.
“Don’t you get it? I am now a father.” replied the husband.
Back at home, a week later,
“Where are you taking us?” asked she, to her husband.
Blindfolded she was in the moment,
And a few minutes later,
Standing at what she assumed was a door to a room,
“Here we are.” said the husband.
As soon as the scarf went down,
Up went her hands,
To cover her mouth that was open wide in surprise.
The previously empty room was now full of toys.
Though none of them appeared new, rather they looked familiar.
And then, all of a sudden,
Off fell a big drop of tear down her cheeks.
As she realized that the toys were all in fact hers,
Probably from the time when she was her daughter’s age.
“You ready to relive your childhood?” asked the husband.
“No, I won’t” cried the girl.
“Get down!” yelled the mother.
Tightening her firm clasp over his shoulders,
With a frown on her face,
Glared the girl at her mother.
“Put her down, will you?” commanded the wife.
“You are spoiling her.” added she.
To the mother who now seemed like the villain,
“Not yet.” replied the father seconds later.
It was short, non-rhythmic and non-melodic,
Yet somehow it did not lack humour.
Though it was pretty impressive,
For someone who was absolutely unmusical.
“You will make her stay up till late.” said she.
“It sounds awful.” added she.
“Does it?” asked he, to his daughter,
Who looked a little too peaceful than usual.
“My daughter doesn’t think so.” said he, to his wife,
It was true indeed.
The lullaby had somehow served its purpose,
The baby girl was slowly falling asleep.
The mother woke up to the strange noise.
It resembled that of a falling tumbler.
Visible from the hall, was some light in the kitchen.
There, upon the counter, sat the little devil,
Stuffing a spoonful of her favourite sundae into her mouth,
And boy, was she alone?, definitely not.
Stood beside her, guilt not guilty,
Her constant partner in crime.
“You guys!!!” exclaimed the mother.
“She was hungry” replied the helpless father.
Wearing a gown fitted with numerous blue rosettes,
Posed the girl like the princess she was.
Watching her pose was the father,
Who was to choose the dress that suited her best.
An hour later, stood the daughter in front of her mother,
With a bag full of beautiful dresses.
“Sweetheart, you were supposed to get just one.” said the mother.
“All of them looked ‘best’ on her.” replied the father.
“Not a word.” said the guy, slightly raising his voice.
Clenching his teeth,
Up stood the father from his seat.
“Honey, please calm down.” said the mother.
“Did you not see what he just did?” complained the father.
And the next few hours went by,
With the mother explaining to the father,
That they were at their daughter’s school,
That it was nothing but a simple play,
That the boy was harmless,
And his daughter was perfectly safe.
It was funny, the father’s reaction,
Over a simple disrespect which wasn’t even real.
Yet deep down, she felt happy.
The father had set the bar way too high,
For every single man that came into her life.
Had to treat her right,
Equally good or may be better,
And to watch him become the ideal ‘man’
Was most definitely, unreal.