Wednesday, October 17, 2012


“Hold me, Mamma!”

I could tell by the chuckle on her face that she wasn’t sick or gloomy, just craving to be held by mom.
We were in the kitchen, and I was doing the dishes while my maid was busy feeding my son.
“Hold me, please. I am your daughter, no?”
There were a zillion explanations why I couldn’t pick her up just then.  My hands were all soaked with soap, and I was just struggling to get through the job that my maid was going to do – but had to bid it adieu as my son insisted being fed by her.  There were other chores to do too, and inadequate time to do them, before I tuck both my son and daughter in bed.  I was tired, having been up and busy most of the day, and more than a little sullen.  Finally, my shoulder was screaming at me just from moving the heavy ceramic dishes, and I knew I shouldn’t really be lifting anything at the moment, let alone a solid 16 kgs little girl.
 “You never hold me. You only hold Akshat. You only love him”

I thought of the tête-à-tête we’d had earlier that evening in the car on our way to her drawing classes. When it’s just me and her, she proudly takes the front sit while I chauffeur her around. I feel, with the seat a certain level of accountability pops in as she never forgets to buckle up her seat belt which she otherwise plainly disgusts.  We’d been giggling and joking and singing her nursery rhymes enjoying those few minutes of Mamma/Aashvi time before we get to her classes and the evening gets away from us.   She made a comment about always having to go to the bathroom when she first woke up in the mornings, which converted into a dialogue about kids; the importance of hygiene and mannerism and how their Moms, Dads and Teachers get impressed with their decent behaviour.  She’s been asking lots of queries lately about the infancy she’s shedding behind her and I can sense the level of curiosity in every question she asks. She wants the answers to her satisfaction and that can be really tough and highly uncomfortable sometimes. 
As we talked, I realised, that it’s been more than 2 years since  she has grown quite independent on her own.
I can’t remember the last time I fed her a proper meal myself and made choices about what she'll wear.
She suddenly chooses to sleep in her own bed in spite of an open invitation to tuck into ours.
In short, our little princess is growing up.  She’s a busy, energetic, attractive, and courageous five years old.  And while I enjoy our connection now more than ever, I grieve for the fact that an entire season in my life as a mom is over.  For the past six years I’ve been pregnant and/or nursing and/or taking care of my charming set of Twins.  Until sometime back, I was always busy attending to the needs of my babies.  And now suddenly I’m not. I have ample time in hand as they are on their own mostly.
It’s one of the major clichés of parenting, except…. it’s not really a cliché.  It’s reality.  That time just zooms by.  So reckless!   One moment you’re lying in an operating room of the hospital, meeting two tiny 2.5 kg each babies who would make you a mother, and the next, you’re standing in the kitchen with your five-year old daughter.  Your LOVING child. Who’s requesting to be held.  And both, the gratitude of having been blessed with all those wonderful and lovely years and the melancholy that they’re over, overwhelm you all at once.  They hover to take your breath away.

“Hold me, please!”
I dry my hands on a kitchen towel.  The girl howls happily as I scoop her up, hurt shoulder be damned.
I held her for as long as she desired; until she requested to be put back down to go off on her next escapade.  Was it 5 minutes?  20?  I lost all track of time, swept up in the transient moment of having my sweetheart in my arms for one more time.
And just like that, it’s done.  She’s run to her brother, her moment of craving for mom already a thing of the past.   I turn back to the dishware, and those large ceramic plates suddenly aren't so weighty any more.


  1. Replies
    1. Thanks....your encouragement will help me in a long run!!

  2. Aaaaaaaw..."a treasury of precious moments"...that's what parenting is all about isn't it?. Sweet :)

  3. Awwww....loved your hopped here from women's web. Love your writing.