"The last time I saw him so excited was probably the day you sent Kanha that letter, chhoti..."
I couldn't help but smile at the remark. Revati Didi always knew how to make my days better, and I couldn't be more thankful for her presence. I would've expressed my gratitude towards her right then, had she not mentioned that charming centre of my dreams – Him. Not that my mind ever travelled much further away from him, but if someone made a conscious attempt to highlight it, there was no going back. Not now especially, after a long, slow week of not having him around.
Perceptive as she was, Didi was quick to see through my glazed eyes and read my thoughts. She gave me a quick pat on the shoulder, stood up to leave, and said, "It's alright, Shree! It's just one more day, and he'll be right here, falling all over the room with his adorable enthusiasm. You haven't seen how excited he is!" And with her trademark giggle, she stooped over to kiss the sleeping baby goodbye, and left. I sank deeper into my soft pillows, holding my little bundle closer, still smiling from the aftereffects of the meeting.
[This is a ritual in Dwarka – new mothers are expected to rest completely for the first week at least, with no visitors except the women in the family and those taking care.]
She was right. Just one more day and he would walk straight into the room, his bright yellow robes dazzling, his anklets tinkling, and his manmohak smile taking my breath away. I couldn't stop thinking about this impending, joyous moment, even though it was barely six days ago that I had last seen him. But this time when we meet, we won't be the same people we were days ago. We would be parents.
Parents. The word itself felt so warm on my tongue, I couldn't wait to share it with him. He had always been effortlessly childlike with kids – there wasn't one toddler in the whole of Dwarka who wouldn't stop crying when given into his arms. He held them with such love, it always made me tear up a bit. If anyone in the world deserved the unconditional, pure love that children offer, it was this man – my Shreeji. This dream of mine was finally coming true, if only words could truly grasp joy!
All said and done, there was a part of me who waited only for a glimpse of him, and nothing else. The little corner of my heart which was more excited to finally be able to see him, talk to him, and be teased by him, than to watch him play with the baby. Perhaps I'm still more of a lover than a mother. It is not a pleasant thought, and makes me feel guilty, but it is what it is. Perhaps motherhood would wash over me in a few years, and like all others are expected to, I won't see a thing beyond my children. A bolder part of me says that would never be the case. In my mind, I would always be the girl who wrote the letter first, everything else only next. Another voice in my head, sounding curiously like his, tells me, One can be everything at once. Especially you, Shree. Partner. Mother. Queen. Love.
I listen to the last voice, and smile to myself.
It might seem like an exaggeration to be anxious over a week's separation, especially when I've managed to survive far greater lengths of time. Even that is no match for him, who has spent almost an entire lifetime without so many he loved. And yet, separations are not competitions. Time isn't linear. A week could seem far more tedious than a year. You could spend decades waiting for someone, yet feel like another moment without them won't be possible.
...
By the time I woke up the next morning, the sun was already up and the curtains opened. Instinctively, I turned to check on the little bundle beside me. Sure enough, she was right there, still asleep. I let my gaze linger over her sweet little face for a while longer. Years ago, I had woken up on a similar morning, only to find an empty bed in place of my precious son. I never forgot the helplessness, the heartache, and most of all, the sheer sorrow I caught in ShreeJi's eyes, though he never once mentioned it while consoling me all day and all night, for days and weeks afterwards. All he said was that he knew Pradyumna would be fine, and I did what I had always done – believed him with all I had.
