You...my child

Soft alabaster skin rub against mine as you smother me with baby kisses, uttering some meaningful anecdotes in your special language. Out of all that you say in random, unscripted mellifluous gargles of blissful innocence, I can only feel the clutch of your tiny grasp tightening on my cheeks each time you say mummum! A spit bubble breaks at the edge of your little rosy lips as you curl them to suck in my cheek, and the drool leaves a moist trail of inexplicable love on mine. 

 I look at you, the flower of my love, my divine and passionate conspiracy with all that's beautiful, pure, sacred, honest and good in this world and beyond. You are the child of my deepest desires, my truth and my honor and we have no one but each other to trust. We have a secret of sharing a body, and a soul. 

You are restless, you want a new toy, you want to get out of the confines of my arms and explore the earth, the sky, the wind, the water and the fire.

 After all, freedom was the only mantra I had taught you when you were in my womb. "To break free from the shackles that hold you, the psychological bindings are the first ones to severe," I had said. Cut them clean and let not the red chords with blood running through them chain your soul. Break free my child, push your way through the darkness of the hot and moist tunnel and you shall see the light. I recited that mantra to you each night as I breathed for you and filtered life in to your lungs. 

Now I find myself running after you, scared out of my wits, unsure, uncertain how the world would protect the flower of my love. Your physical intimacy has aroused my weaknesses and I shudder at the thought of an unsafe, unprotected world closing on you. 

You are at the edge, and just as I see you look over the boundaries that limit your sight, I suddenly know what you will do next.

You spread your arms to fly...

Will you be my Valentine?

The first time I received an Archies Valentine’s card with an embossed red rose and shiny glitters was in 1988 I think. I was in school, exactly the same age as my daughter now or maybe slightly younger, and yet to be an eighth grader. Someone had taken the pains to sneak it through my Duck Back school bag and I had only accidentally discovered it when I got home. I clearly remember I found it in the front pocket, hidden behind the flap, with a partly melted Red bar of Amul Milk Chocolate. The choice bolstered by its slogan, in those days, we thought was self- explanatory.  It was signed by “A Secret Admirer”. I spent the rest of the afternoon learning from my sister what Valentine’s Day signified and wondering who that admirer was. I also spent a chunk of the evening explaining to my much amused parents (still trying to cope with the fact that their little baby was growing up), why I was the recipient of such an amorous adulation. With time and frequent repetitions, that ice-breaker became a ritual and my parents became more flexible and understanding to the life of an additional teenager daughter in the family.Valentine’s Day in those days of my childhood springs and early youth was a day to declare yet hide a certain emotion called love or perhaps puppy love. Looking back, I may write off those moments of supressed smiles and acknowledgments, fleeting glances over a Lord Byron poetry, candied moments of chocolates and empty coke cans as innocent infatuations which meant little beyond being “seen” as a couple and occasionally daring to hold hands.I don’t know how and when the definition changed and love was no longer something you concealed in layers, you waited to unveil itself; it became a declaration. If you were in love, you ought to scream about it, shout at the top of your voice, and let the world echo your love…why do I hear a hollow reverberation in that resonance? Then am I contradicting myself when I say “mana ki mohabbat ka chupana hai mohabbat, chupke se kisi roz jatane ke liye aa…dil hi dukhane ke liye aa” Tomaye natun kore pabo bole haarai khone khon…..may love be the guiding light of your life!