And Then There Were Three - Part 3

Amiable people. Indifferent people. People as nutty as fruit cake. People as industrious as bees. People ready to forgive anything. People ready to pick a fight over anything. People, people and more people – This is what India is mostly about, a cauldron bubbling with millions of people of all kinds.  There is not one square inch in a city like New Delhi where one isn’t part of a crowd. It is difficult to feel lonely here especially because there is always someone ready to stick their nose in your business. The point being that your business is no longer your own in India, it is communal. Unbelievable though it may seem but this heaving surge of humanity is what I missed the most each time I lived abroad.

Now that our tedious transition was a thing of the past, I was ready to bask in the relative lull that prevailed before Abu’s arrival. It was as if a storm had passed and my life was once again calm and unperturbed, much like an ocean after a tempest. Apart from the work that I continued to do for my company back in the US, there was little on my plate.  And even then, it made a world of a difference that I could now work in my pajamas with my ballooned feet propped up as opposed to being in the office, at a desk in formal garb.  All of this often makes me wonder how the world has shrunk in terms of physical distances in these past few years! It is possible to be separated by continents and time zones and yet feel as if your co-workers are working right by your side. On the other hand though, if you consider a larger perspective, as far as attenuating the more non-tangible distances like those between races, economic classes and religions are concerned; mankind still has a long way to go.

Meanwhile, Abu’s activities were peaking with each passing day. Pranay, my brother, who was also home on vacation during this time, cooked up new experiments for Abu each day. For instance, he deliberately played all kinds of music and gleefully waited for Abu’s reaction to each number. If Abu kicked on a rock number, it meant that he was going to be butch like his Mamu (uncle Pranay) and if he made his presence felt when a Hindi movie song was played, it meant that he was going to be sappy like his Mum.  Pranay also insisted that I lounge in the cozy winter sun each morning just because he felt this would keep Abu nice and warm. This was a period rife with games of ludo, books galore, great homemade food and general bonhomie. Times like these are what anecdotes are made of, stories that are wistfully reminisced for years to come.

March 13^th 2016, a day forecasted by my doctors as the day when Abu would make an appearance, rolled-in and rolled-out uneventfully. It looked like Abu was reluctant to leave his sanctuary of 40 weeks to make acquaintance with the world outside.  Finally, after extending his womb-vacation by 3 days, Abu emerged all slippery and slimy on March 16^th and said hello to those who had been waiting eagerly to meet him. It was as if it had taken him 3 additional days to make up his mind about ending his sojourn and even then he had to be coaxed and cajoled into surfacing from the crack that the doctors had made in his Mum’s tummy. I wouldn’t blame him for not wanting to vacate the cozy confines of his safe cocoon. Had it been me, I would have perhaps been just as disinclined, especially after having known the complexities of life on this planet.

Out he came covered in gloop, looking like a spindly, pale lizard (or so I am told) with long fingers and delicate features. Swaddled in a soft cloth, he was presented to me like a tiny parcel, a birthday gift of sorts that had arrived 10 days before my birthday. While the rest of the world continued to function in its usual rhythm, Arjun and I stopped dead in our tracks to marvel at what we had created. Child bearing is one of the most common natural phenomena. If statistics are to be believed, 150 babies are born across the world every single minute and yet, when we actually experienced the process, it suddenly changed from what we believed was a run-of-the-mill event to an absolutely momentous, one-of-a-kind occurrence. What followed was chaos of apocalyptic proportions. That such a tiny creature was capable of emitting such high pitched howls and could possess such an insatiable appetite that it needed to be quenched every couple of hours, was utterly flummoxing. As the country celebrated the Indian cricket team’s win over Pakistan in the T20 world cup and mourned the heinous terrorist attack in Brussels, we were deeply entrenched in our own little universe, grappling with newfound responsibilities.

All hands in the house were now busy tending to Abu. No one had a second to spare. Diapers churned with surprising promptness, massages and baths were executed with tentative hands and nursing schedules were chalked with as much efficiency as possible. Life as we knew it had changed overnight. The first thing that hit me hard about this new phase was the lack of sleep. One morning, Ma found both Abu and me sprawled in the living room, bawling our eyes out, exhausted beyond our wits after a sleepless night. Imagine her dilemma when she realized that she not only had a crying new-born to pacify but also her own 3 decade old baby to deal with! With Abu nestled in the crook of her elbow and my head resting on her shoulder, she successfully soothed our jangled nerves that day. How she achieved such a feat is still a mystery to me. I may have suffered a bout of bipolarity during these days too. My spirit seemed to sway like a pendulum. Within a matter of a few hours I would go from loathing the thought of Abu growing even a day older as his tininess was so adorable to fervently wishing for the next few months to speed by as quickly as possible so that things would get a little easier.

There were heated debates about the appropriate rate of weight gain and the need for supplementing with formula. There were also lengthy discussions on the different hues of Abu’s poop – something I had never fathomed doing especially since just the thought of bodily excrement used to make me queasy once upon a time. Even the faintest hint of a smile on Abu’s face became as coveted a sight as probably a rare bird on our balcony. Battles were waged over who got to cuddle him first. Each one of us had our own methods – Arjun had a peculiar dance which entailed holding Abu and bobbing up and down like a piece of cork floating in the ocean. Abu’s Nanaji formed a recliner with his hands, on which Abu lounged like a king while Nanaji strolled up and down. Nani often flipped him over on her lap and caressed his back, giving him relief on many a colicky nights. I loved napping with him spread-eagled on my stomach, moving up and down in sync with my breath. Pranay, when he first met Abu, was so scared of holding him that he decided to just look at him from a distance. And eventually when he did pick him up, they looked like the giant and the pea with the pea balancing precariously on the giant’s shoulder.

5 months later, the house is still in a tizzy on most days. The frenzy though is more controlled and that there is a baby amongst us is no longer an intimidating thought. The once spick and span living room is now a tiny playground with Freddie, the firefly relaxing on the couch, Ellie the elephant peeking from behind the bolster and Bandy, the monkey striking acrobatic poses on the center table. Right now if I survey my surroundings, I can spot nappies drying on the back rests of dining chairs because they can’t be hung outside due to the rain and there is a baby blanket carelessly draped over a feeding cushion with a crumpled bib tossed in to add to the mess. Preeti from a prior life might have gone insane at just the thought of a living room looking like this early in the morning but today I know I must wisely choose what to spend my precious time on before Abu wakes up. Tidying up thus will have to wait because breathing life into my dying blog is the need of the hour.