Flight of the Shikra

We stopped cycling, we just went for long walks together when he was in town and when he was travelling, I took one of the girls with me.

"I wish I could just stay all the time with you," he would say.

"I have thought a lot about our time away from each other, my love," I said, "I relive our time together, on the bed and off it, play those scenes again and again. While it keeps me from going crazy, I think it actually strengthens and enhances our relationship.

Look at it this way. One of the pillars of our relationship is that we keep ourselves so desirable to each other. I take the time away from you to keep myself well groomed and attractive, and so do you. I have seen the personal grooming kit that you always have in your travel bag, and I know you use it when travelling. You are so desirable all the time and you smell so good always.

The sheets and pillows always carry your fragrance, and sometimes when you travel, I stop the housekeeping girls from changing them just so that I can cuddle up with one of the pillows that exude your musky fragrances till you are back. And when you return, our union become so frantic and powerful and slowly turns sublime. We get our time away from each other and this makes the absence constructive to our lives."

He made a sour face, "You are very good to me and very good for me. Except that you get to stay with my fragrance and I miss the scent of my woman. The hotel sheets and pillows only smell of antiseptics and detergents."

"My little donkey, why didn't you tell me this earlier, I will fix this by the evening, just you wait my buddy," I said.

We went to the mall in the afternoon. "Come with me," I said and took him to the Nike store, where I picked up a set of black sweat bands for his wrists and head...

"You are up to something," he said.

"Be patient," I replied.

Back home, I dabbed my cologne on the bands and put them on his head and wrists. I also dropped a small bottle of the cologne into his toilet case.

"Now you can hug any pillow, you won't smell anyone but me, wherever you are, whichever bed you are on. And when the scent begins to fade the recharge is now in your bag."

Narasimha just held me tight and we laughed our hearts out.

It is not that we did not have our differences. They were few and far in between. A few months after we became a couple, and long before we were married, we had an argument over so trivial an issue, I don't think either of us remember it now. That evening, as I was sulking, Narasimha came to me and apologised for loosing his cool. I ignored him. Then he took my face in his hands and he said,

"Neela, I want you to remember this always, This is not the last of our disagreements, there will be more such incidents in our lives. But this bedroom of ours is sacrosanct and our bed is sacred. No matter how heated an argument, no matter who is right and who is wrong, in this room, turning our faces away from one another and sleeping with our backs towards each other is not an option for either of us."

I scowled and said, "There is another option."

"What?" he looked rattled.

"This," I said, and I kissed him, and I knew this was the fiercest kiss of mine.

"You scared me" he said.

"This is called 'to kiss and make up,' any questions?"

"Just one," he said, can we change it to 'kiss and make love'? And he rolled me over on my back.

And this turned out be another mantra for our successful relationship. We never go to bed angry with one another.

We celebrated Narasimha's birthday in September in a restaurant specialising in food from South India. Called a 'Thali,' it comprises a platter that includes about 20 different types of dishes, each served as a small helping in its own bowl. It is light and easy on the stomach and it tickled our palate with a range of tastes and flavours. Narasimha explained the significance of each dish, how a spicy one balanced out a bland one, how hot was paired with cold, how bitter ones complemented the sweet. He gave us their names and the parts of the state where they were specialities of. After the meal he announced that after this, we will be eating only home cooked food till after the baby arrives. It was then I realised, this meal was not about him, it was not about his birthday, it was all about me, my health and our baby.

The new year was very special and we realised it will always be special to us. We all got together on New Year's Eve to celebrate Alka's first birthday. Narasimha put up fairy lights all over our lawn. It turned a bit windy so we had to move into the house, but that didn't dampen our enthusiasm. The kid of course slept all through the celebrations. Sulochana and Champa turned out a simple but tasty dinner. Suman organised a birthday party the next day, and Vivek and Narasimha went overboard with balloons, streamers and a birthday cake. We tried getting the birthday girl to cut the cake, she just dug her fingers into it and plastered our faces with the icing. We caught all of it on camera.

Suman surprised me with a 'Baby Shower' on my birthday which came up next. It was also the day that Narasimha had proposed to me and I had agreed to marry him. She had invited our other two friends, Sonu and Disha and I was literally showered with lots of stuff for the baby, new clothes, toys, diapers, toiletries. Narasimha waited till everybody had gone home and then gave me his own special gift, a pair of gold bangles inlaid with passionate red rubies.

I held out my hands for him to slip them on.

Neela

This would possibly be the last check up before the delivery. Dr Shailaja came out of the examination room while the nurses inside helped Neela dress up after the examination.

"She is fine, I think everything will be normal and on schedule," she said. I asked her something that was worrying me though I had been playing along with Neela.

"Doctor, Neela wants a daughter and is very sure that is what she is going to have. I am worried she may be upset if it is a boy."

"Women do have some intuitive feelings, but let me tell you this," she replied, "when the baby comes out and I place it on her abdomen before I cut the umbilical cord, and the baby tries to suckle, everything will change, boy or girl won't matter, the oxytocin will kick in and she will bond with the baby instantly. Don't you worry sir, she will be fine."

And that to me was a big relief.

I applied for my paternity leave, plugged in my insurance details at the hospital so that the hospital can bill the insurance company directly, and since the due date was 20th, I commenced my leave from the previous day. I double checked that my car had its tank full, that I had the doctor's contact details, that Neela's bag was packed. Neela just kept smiling. "The baby is here," she said pointing to her tummy, "why are you fretting so much? Stay cool man, she is not going to come out in the middle the night."

I slept fitfully, she slept like a baby, we took a small walk in the morning, we had our breakfast, and we started flipping through a book, rather aimlessly. At 10 AM she winced a bit and said, "I think you should drive me down to the hospital, take it easy, don't get hyper, just drive me down slowly. I will talk to the doctor, the hospital and Suman."

I asked Champa to accompany me, and very carefully, I drove down to the hospital. The familiar process that I had witnessed with Suman started.

We went into the delivery room, Neela was hooked on to the IV and immediately afterwards her contractions became more powerful. With the calm voice of Dr Shailaja selling her to breathe out between contractions, and with small screams and gasps coming out of Neela, I held her hand in mine and placed my other hand on her shoulder.

"I am here my love, you are doing well, you are awesome," I muttered what I thought would be encouraging words.

"I can see the baby's head now Neela, just a few minutes more, keep pushing in sync with the contractions," the calm voice of Dr Shailaja intoned. She pushed, with a huge scream and suddenly the baby's head was out, she paused for a moment, then a couple of quick pushes, accompanied by smaller screams and the shoulders and then the baby, along with a gush of fluids burst forth. Dr Shailaja expertly picked up the baby in her gloved hands, and a nurse quickly covered the baby in a towel and they started wiping it dry. "12:15 PM" Dr Shailaja announced, looking at the clock on the wall as she placed the baby on Neela's abdomen. "Say hello to your beautiful daughter, Neela," she said and Neela burst into tears.

I held her hand, I watched the baby turn to a healthy pink from the pale white colour she had when she emerged. She was breathing normally and then she whimpered. The doctor waited till the cord stopped pulsating and tied it in two places and cut it. She waited a while, checking the abdomen and uterus, the nurses kept a watch on her parameters, one of them added something into the IV bottle and Neela had some contractions again, as the doctor and her team delivered the placenta. I just kept looking at my beautiful wife and our beautiful daughter. Our daughter was gnawing away at the sides of Neela's breasts. I laid my head against Neela's and squeezed her hand.

In a while they took the baby to the adjoining table and weighed her, she was 2.8 kilograms, quite a normal baby. Then they asked me to step out to complete some paperwork, Suman and Vivek were waiting outside, they had already got the news and they hugged me and shook my hand.

When I got through the administrative formalities, Neela had been wheeled in to her room, the baby bathed and wrapped in a swaddle was in her hands. Suman was beside her and she said, "Look at her eyelashes, Narasimha, she has your eyelashes." But I was just staring at Neelima's face with my mouth open.

"Are you okay Narasimha?" Neela asked.

"Look at her lips," I cried, "she has Neela's lips, the lips of Nefertiti."

"How dd we miss that?" They all cried in unison.

Neela had to stay in the hospital for two days, when they checked her and the baby up, started the first of the series of immunisations. During this time, I set up our bedroom to receive the new baby. I brought in her crib and had it placed on my side of the bed. The small table for all the baby stuff to be available on hand, checked the position so that while it received fresh air and sunlight, there was no chill draft or the sun playing directly on the crib. I got Suman over to check things out and give me a thumbs up.

Then we brought the baby home. Sulochana and Champa had made an elaborate floral design on the floor right at the entrance to our home, the traditional Indian sign of welcome. Neelima was fast asleep, as I took her from Neela's arms and laid her in the crib. Suman held Alka who prattling and laughing, thought the baby was a toy, she wanted to jump put of Suman's arms and grab the baby. We all laughed.

We had a quick meal, and everyone hung around for a while, and then left.

"Shouldn't the crib be on my side of the bed?" Neela asked as we moved in to our bedroom.

"First things first," I said as I took her in my arms and kissed her deeply. "Thank you for being so brave out there, for bearing all that pain and giving us Neelima. I love you so much."

She kissed me, "Thank you for making Neelima, and that too on the day of our wedding, it is the ultimate wedding gift for both of us."

"How were you so sure my love?" I asked.

"I really don't know, it was the right time of the month and I wanted it so badly, I guess your body responded to my need. But we got what we wanted."

We held each other close. "I will be the one who will pick her up from the crib, when she needs to feed, I will be the one to burp her, I will put her back in the crib, I will change her nappies.... You will just enjoy our baby. You will feed her and I will watch, but I will need your help when we bathe her and dress her up."

She grinned, "I can see a sinister plan to turn her into a daddy's girl"

"Not really," I said possessively, "both the girls in this room are MINE."

And that is how things worked out.

I had sent a photograph of the two of us with our baby to Zoya, and then called her to share the news. Aunt and grandmother were sleeping, Zoya promised to inform them and show them the picture.

A few days later, we received a package. I opened it, It was from Zoya and contained two large glass jars, one containing the traditional 'Leigiyam,' the other a ginger garlic paste and a packet of 'pappadum.' There was a handwritten letter inside, two sides of ruled paper, densely packed with small writing. It was from grandmother and was addressed to Neela.

I put them on the dining table and said they were for her. This is called 'Leigiyam' in Tamil, it is a health tonic, made out of different herbs and spices mixed and cooked into a green granular thick paste, almost like a cheese spread. The other is a paste made of ginger and garlic and this is called a pappadum, similar to what you know as paapad, a thin, crisp flat flatbread made of black gram and rice. This letter is addressed to you and is from my grandmother.

"Read and translate it to me," she said.

I started reading, "Blessings, good wishes, congratulations to my sweet granddaughter-in-law," it began, "both you and my grandson have given me a beautiful great granddaughter. I have studied her stars in the almanac and she will grow up to be a highly educated and capable lady who will discover new things that will greatly benefit the world.

I am sending you 'legiyam,' I have personally stirred this for you, it is a health booster for a woman who has just borne a child. Take a spoonful in the morning and another before you go to bed. It will keep your internals clean, purify your blood and will make your skin smooth and radiant and cause it glow. It has a pleasant side effect, it will make your husband love you even more."

"Stop! Did you cook that last line up Narasimha?"

"No, I swear, this is exactly what she has written"

I continued reading, "Take one teaspoon of the ginger garlic paste, I have made it mildly spicy, for I know you girls from the North are not used to the heavy spicy stuff from the South, and mix it into a portion of rice, and eat it with two of the pappadum. The pappadum must not be fried in oil, it should be toasted on an open flame or you can use a microwave. This will cause your body to produce lots of milk for your baby."

"She is in form Neela, full grandmother mode."

Neela was thoughtful, "Read on," she said.

"Take good care of the child and while you do, take good care of my grandson. He is sensitive and caring and capable of intense love, so love him with every fibre of your body, your soul, mind and spirit. He will not allow even a single tear to form in the corner of your eye. He can be rude or abrupt when angry, forgive him and with your love, train him to be patient. I know you will take away the loneliness that has overcome him after the tragedy that befell him. Remember he has a heart of gold.

When he was young, he used to catch a fever sometimes and his body would shiver. I used to wrap him in a blanket and hold him to my bosom, and feed him hot pepper soup. You too must do the same, he always recovers quickly."

"Oh boy," I said, "she still remembers want she used to do to me nearly 20 years ago."

"Read Narasimha, read..."

"It is almost done Neela," it finally says,

"Be happy, laugh a lot, and stay blessed......

....Your Paati."

"Does 'Paati' mean grandmother?" Neela asked

"Yes, it does."

"Open the jars for me"

She scooped up a spoonful and popped it into her mouth. "This is yummy."

She pulled her hands away when tried to taste some of it. "Paati has made it for me." Then she scooped a small bit, placed it on her tongue and then pushed her tongue into my mouth. "This is all you get." I realised that Paati had still not lost her art of making leigiyam.

She tried the ginger garlic paste, rice and pappadum combination for lunch and she loved them too.

"I want to talk to her, teach me how to say 'thank you' in Tamil." I wrote down the words in Roman script and taught her how to pronounce them. Then I called Zoya and told her we will talk to grandmother at three, after she has woken up from her nap.

I set up a video call. "Paaateeee," Neela screamed, waving at her. Then she picked up the jars and held it close to her bosom. She brought them close to her cheeks and pretended to lick them, then she rolled her lips over her tongue. The message 'I love it, I ate them and they are delicious' effectively communicated, she came across to my side and placed the phone in my hands, went behind me, put her arms around my neck and placed her cheek next to mine. 'Yes, I love your grandson' also effectively communicated, she sat next to me, while I spoke to grandmother, and then to my aunt and Zoya.

"What did she say?" She asked.

"She said 'Tamil girls must learn to be so expressive with their emotions like these Punjabi ones. She is a mother now but still a teenager at heart, take care of her well.' I promised her I will."

I paused, and then said, "Neela, I think I am feeling a bit feverish."

"You beast! I will complain to Paati." We hugged tightly.

"I think I know where your romantic nature and your intensity to love comes from," she said.

Neelima whimpered from the crib, and then let out a bawl. It was her feeding time.

Narasimha

We had established a routine, six times in 24 hours, at 1, 5, and 9 AM ,and then again at 1, 5 and 9 PM, he would pick up Neelima from the crib and hand her to me for her feed. He would burp her and coo and cuddle her till she fell asleep again. Then he would softly caress and stroke the area around my nipples that Neelima would have gripped fiercely while she fed. I would ruffle his hair and we would kiss for a while.

He was totally tuned into Neelima. No matter how deep his sleep, even a change in the breathing pattern of his daughter while she slept would wake him up. He had this built in alarm clock, that would make him sit up just a couple for minutes before her feeding time. He would gently wake me up and hand over Neelima to me, and watch both of us as mother and daughter bonded.

"I have some for you too, my love," I would say and he would suckle me gently. I would feel his love course through my veins. When his paternity leave came to an end, and he resumed his travels, I started to miss all these simple things he would do for me.

"Just three days darling, I will be back soon," he would say.

He fixed up a camp cot next to the crib, for either Champa or Sulochana to stay with me and help me out. But I missed him terribly when he was not there.

Neelima was six weeks old and It was time for my postpartum check up.

I said to Narasimha, "Soon we will start making love again, something I am keenly looking forward to. I have discussed with my doctor and after my checkup, I am having an IUD inserted."

"It is your body and you have every right over it. But I can get a vasectomy done."

"Not now Narasimha, much as I may be your teenager on steroids, we have to accept the fact that my biological clock is ticking. I do want to conceive another baby when Neelima is about a year old. You can have that vasectomy after that."

Life moved on and moved very fast. Between vaccinations and inoculations, teething troubles, colds and viral fever, lovely strolls in the parks and in malls with our daughter in a baby carrier close to our chests or in strollers, beautiful times with our friends Suman and Vivek, and their baby Alka, Suman was pregnant again.

With Suman expecting a baby, we celebrated Neelima's first birthday in a subdued but intimate fashion with our friends. Two years and four months after Alka, and one year and two months after Neelima, Suman's little boy Aakaash, which means 'The Sky' came into this world on the 10th of May. He made a no fuss entry and Suman's labour was much shorter than what she went through for Alka.