The bib fell on the ground. She picked it up with two nimble, attentive fingers and promptly tied it around his neck. She scooped out a spoonful of porridge and held it patiently in front of his face. Smiling she said, “Aaaa…” He opened his mouth obediently albiet distracted. He loved to see the plastic butterflies stuck on the wall. She fed another dollop of porridge in his semi open mouth. She said, “Say Aaa…” He got distracted again, spitting out the paste like food. She carved it off his face and patiently kept the spoon at his lips. “Say Aaaaaa.” This time he obliged, eyes vacantly staring at the butterflies.
The car zoomed through the mountains clinging to the cliff. She sat up front, turning back to look at her baby prince sitting pertly in the car seat. She covered her face with her dupatta. “Boo!” He giggled. A single tooth shone inside his pink mouth. “Boo!” He giggled.
Her husband looked at their kid in the rearview mirror. Smiling. They had the same smile. He glanced at her. She was elated. He hadn’t seen her happier. Ever. Playing with her dupatta, she continued entertaining their 1 year old. He forced himself to face the road. The painted yellow line moved under their car running backwards. Like the lights of a runway strip. As if he was soaring through space. Rushing towards the exhilaration of sheer flight.
Eighteen months back, he remembered, he had been staring at these same lines. But then, he had felt a different emotion altogether. He was scared shitless that night. She had just told him about the baby. He remembered how she looked then, a secret sweet smile as if she couldn’t control her happiness. On the other hand, he gulped down the instinct to ask her for an abortion. A second later, he hated himself even for thinking it. There was no denying it . All that planning crumbled around him. He had looked at those yellow lines then as if they were stealing his life away, one strip at a time and racing away from his reach. And worst of all, it was he who was driving. He could stop those running lines. He could stop the car but he was driving and the lines kept stealing his life away. But that was then.
He looked at the one year old giggling, looking at his mom. That was it. He knew he could have asked for nothing more. This was the best thing that happened to them. He pulled his attention towards the road again.
She peeped out of her dupatta once more. Her bangles tinkled as she swiftly pulled the dupatta off her face. The baby kept staring at her with bright gleaming eyes. This was what she had always wanted. To be a mother. They had spoken about having a family earlier and she knew that they hadn’t planned on it for a few more years. But in a way, she was glad that it happened when it happened. She had often wondered how anyone can think of life without planning on having kids. And at the same time, she felt guilty. Guilty for thinking such un-feminist thoughts. But to hell with everything, she thought. I wanted to be a mother. And I am one.
A quick lurch was the first thing she felt. The second was the sight of the baby’s gleaming eyes.
The crowd gathered around the car. It was lying on its side, windows smashed in. The car was totaled out. The air bags filled the entire space. Sirens blasted through the air. She was screaming, wildly. That sound was the last thing she remembered.
“Say aaaa..” She held the spoon up. Patiently. He looked away from the butterflies on the wall. Accepting the spoon in his mouth. She scooped up the last spoonful from the bowl, and kept the bowl aside. “Ok… last bite now… say aaaa..” He looked at her with a blank stare, mechanically opening his mouth.
She got up and went to the kitchen. Through the gap in the curtains, she saw his head lolling off and resting on his shoulder, drool slipping through his semi-open mouth. She picked up a paper napkin and headed back. Dabbing his chin, she cleared off the drool.
“We need to shave you today… right? Can you say right? Ra-Ee-T”
He stared at the wall.
The hospital ward was drab. She walked through the corridor, her arm bandaged. Her leg killed her even through the heavy painkillers she was on. She looked through the glass. She felt numb as she stood watching him, lying on the bed, head heavily bandaged.
They told her she was out for a long time. Deep coma. The relatives were the one who dealt with everything. He was still comatose. It was a miracle that he survived the accident at all, they said. Miracle. She sighed and walked away. She didn’t wish to think of her baby. She couldn’t. It was done with, wasn’t it? It was taken care of by the relatives, they said. Taken care of.
She wanted to be a mother, all along. Fate has a weird sense of humor, she thought as she sometimes looked at herself in the mirror.
“Ok.. hold still now. Hold still, let me shave you alright?”
He was engrossed in counting the butterflies.
