I thought I must write to you…each day, every day, a something special only for you. As usual your mummy has no agenda when she shoots off on these trips of hers. She wears her shoes, checks if enough time is in her pockets, for all the detours she is going to take on these trips… and it’s never enough. But she won’t stop.
While they say I am supposed to be teaching you all the good things in life, my sweetest you are the one who has taught me lessons… All of 3 years and you keep teaching me things. And all I tell you is what’s right and what’s wrong. But my honey bum, who is to decide what’s right and what’s wrong? Not me, not your achcha, not achchamma… you will have to learn it yourself – the rights and the wrongs, the in-betweens, being the most important, for slowly you will realize that more than the blacks and whites are the greys.
You scared me to bits when you ‘practised’ squinting. Even more so when you couldn’t identify the basic colours…yellow was ello and so was red. And then one fine day you just walk up to me and rattle off the names of colours pointing at a picture book. You made me proud. Yes, you did. And I know you will keep making me proud. No pressure to perform though. Nothing on earth can make me forget the squirming red blob the doc held in front of me announcing, ‘it’s a girl’. He made a mistake. It was a fairy. My very own fairy, who thinks she can’t live without me, when it is actually the other way round.
