Dilly Dallying..

My room smells like chrysanthemums. The smells wafts about like a bee dancing gently, weaving through petals. 'Tis a pleasant addition to the sting of an air that is moist and heavy with the presage of thunder that comes nightly to keep my insomnia company.

The pale light struggles through glass bay windows that are shut tight. Should I stop to look up, I am greeted by the vast, green magnolia tree against a grey sky . Invisible birds, enshrouded by Miss Magnolia, are trilling away - out of time with Mozart who plays on, oblivious and cheerful.

It is 4 PM. I want to go for a walk and smell the roses on Mrs. Van something's front lawn. My senses are heightened although my brain feels dead. I simply cannot seem to concentrate. But I stay rooted to my seat, crouched over my desk, feeling too afraid to get up, too reckless to work.

A cloud has passed. And a ray strikes me bright and cold in the eye. Shall I just sleep for a while perhaps? Only if there is some chance that I will wake up and find, I'm somewhere else, doing something else.

Since that can't happen, Tally-Ho!! The fox has been sighted!

Someday..

Aidan's mother called me today and as we were talking I could hear his pitter pattering and the squeak squeak of his baby shoes, which on a good day, I find mildly annoying. I braced, because I was sure that our conversation was going to be constantly and abruptly interrupted every seventh sentence with motherly remonstrations such as "Aidan, get down" , "Aidan, crayons are not to be eaten" , "No, Aidan you cannot have another cookie before lunch". I tried to reconcile myself to it while hoping desperately it wouldn't show in my voice.

Mothers are so perceptive when it comes to the way people react to their kids. As though reading my thoughts, she began apologetically "I'm sorry, you know, I really can talk it's just that this is Aidan's most active time of day. So if you don't mind, I'll have to mind him, but really, I can talk"

Sudden pangs of guilt struck. Ok, so she has a baby. I should cut her some slack. God knows, I've stood by while people have cut me off for far more trivial things. I made up my mind to be quite unmindful of the little rugrat's claims on his mommy's attention, or atleast pretend.

Just then, a funny thing happen, Aidan come up to the computer and said," Are you talking to Sneha Aunty mama?" in the cutest baby voice ever.

I started!!

Sneha Aunty ??? Geez!! There ought to be a statute of limitations on how you old you need to be for people to call you that!!

And Cutest baby voice ever ??? What!!!

Did it mean I was enjoying this if i was giggling mirthfully at just the sound of his voice?

Aidan's mommy promptly noted that I wasn't as anti baby as when I first beheld her child (which she duly remarked on then with a rather wry "he's not going to bite you know, you can hold him closer" ) and asked gingerly if I minded talking to Aidan. Rather surprisingly, I found myself acceding to the suggestion quite readily.

It was when his perky, almost cherubic 3 year old voice squeaked out, "Sneha Aunty, how are you" that I knew I was totally falling for the whole enchilada.

Aidan grew bolder while telling me about his red fire engine and daddy's new "impla"(Chevy impala ) in which he went 'ta ta and vroom vroom' . After ten minutes of a conversation with a 22 yrd old , he had to bribed into giving up his self established monopoly over conversation with Sneha Aunty by the allure of drawing her a picture of his house.

With him settled comfortably close-by with his crayons, mommy dearest and I resumed our catching up. It had been too long. It was so strange to hear her say 'parenty' things to Aidan every couple of minutes. I told her as much. She didn't seem to take offense. I think she understood that none was intended. She admitted that sometimes she was convinced it was a different person that had taken over her life.

She asked about my unattached existence with the tinge of been-there-done-that-but-that's-no-longer-my-life kind of envy that I can only imagine a young wife and mother might feel. I started to say something but found instead that I was rushing to reassure her. I felt a little guilty. I started to mutter about how she wasn't missing all that much. But I think she knew that I knew that she wasn't quite reassured. I quickly changed the topic. Back to Aidan.

He had run out of patience. He wanted to talk to Sneha Aunty again. Apparently, mommy informed me, he had taken quite a shine to her. Meanwhile, I had absolutely no clue how to engage little Aidan on the phone. But then the best part of talking to a kid, is that it doesn't need to make any sense, it doesn't have to have a flow of thought, it doesn't need to be logical or anything. It's just getting the little guy to open his mouth and knowing that something cute will invariably tumble out.

That's all I really wanted. Because the sound of his voice, his giggling, the way he pronounced my name was enough to make me : Happy.

I told his mother that. I told her how happy just talking to him had me today. She seemed taken aback by the graveness of my voice but took it in her stride. I was struck by how strongly I was affected. And how good I was feeling. It was weird - for lack of a better word.

We managed to squeeze in another half an hour of conversation before we had to say quick byes. I told Aidan I was waiting to see him again. I told him to be a good boy in the way 'grown ups' told me not so long ago. I had nothing else to say, but I wouldn't have minded at all if Aidan and her mommy had stayed online and I could have just heard them for a while.

Finally when I cut the line, I sat back in my chair and let the little tike's voice echo in my head and allowed myself one sigh. That's when I realised my cheeks were hurting so much from all the smiling.

The thought of little ears, little feet and cute little baby clothes.. I thought of my little finger being encircled by that little hand, all warm and soft and pink and how that was one of the loveliest feelings in the world. And I began to laugh.

What on earth's the matter with me!! I've long been ambivalent about Kids. I've known some really nice ones but way too many brats. It's kept me grounded to reality. I didn't allow myself to get carried away by gurgles, mostly because I knew that that was about when the drool was about to begin puddling on the sleeve of my beautiful silk kurti. I could only just about manage to plaster a smile when ecstatic but slightly deluded parents of little mister Einstein-in-the-making regale me with the coincidental mutterings of actually quite incoherent words they think they might have coaxed out of their two year old just that day.

And yet here I was, happy as a pin. There are some days, like today, when I know that despite my insatiable need not to be tied down, to experience everything that I imagine that life has to offer, it will all be quite inadequate and incomplete, if I don't have kids.

Definitely not anytime soon for there is so much to do, so much to see, so much to learn. But someday.

Someday... I'd like to be a mother.