Aamu – to daughter with love

“Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you….” – Kahlil Gibran

Jotin is a changed man these days. He tries desperately to not make it so evident. He laughs, jokes and goes about doing his daily chores as if nothing has ever happened.

But his demeanor belies it all. People who know him can sense an air of despondency around him.

When Aamu entered his life – the Jotin of that moment and the Jotin of today – there is a world of difference!

Aamu – the answer to all their prayers. He would rush from work to be with her. Gently picking her up and lovingly looking at her he would whisper sweet nothings in her ears. If she was sleeping he would patiently sit by her side and watch the tiniest of her movements and be filled with awe and wonder.

He would rock her in his arms if she cried and comfort her by talking to her. And Aamu would respond by growing quiet. Thus father and daughter would talk endlessly – their language – Love!

Today Aamu is ten months old.  She left Jotin when she was barely two.

He stood at the station long after the train had left! Only if could stop the train! Only if he could stop the avalanche of tears!

He had tried hard; really hard to convince his wife; but all his reasoning and pleading could not pass muster. Misunderstanding, clash of egos, each blaming the other, and verbal spat – at least Jotin could have shown restraint.

Without Aamu; Jotin’s world came crashing down. Not a waking moment passed without Jotin not questioning himself. He would cry late into the night and toss and turn in his bed. Sleep became his worst enemy! He found none to confide his agony and suffered alone.  

During this period Jotin visited Aamu twice. First being Durga Pooja and then during her “Annaprasson” ceremony. Aamu had completed six months and the occasion was marked with festivities. She was now allowed to have cereals. Till then milk was her staple diet.

After the second visit Jotin become all the more recluse. He shunned all company. His folks at home were hurt the most. Poor Jotin! If only he could scream his lungs out - sorry, sorry, and sorry a zillion times – nothing is dearer than you Aamu. Please come back sweetheart; please come back to Papa!

To be away from one’s daughter and not see her growing! To not listen to the giggles of your child when she is happy and to not comfort her when she is sad! Jotin missed it all. The entire symphony of noises that Aamu created - whimpers, snorts, grunts, moans, yelps, squeals, growls, chuckles, sighs and babbles -   signaling the gamut of emotions passing over her – he missed everything!

He, in fact he missed life! For Jotin to live was to be with Aamu!

Nobody understands the pain of a father pining for his daughter!

Jotin now drags himself from one day to the other.  The question is for how long?

In a remote corner of his heart there is a slim ray of hope. Though it flutters with every gush of wind; Jotin has managed to keep it alive.

The question is for how long??

Till the time Aamu comes back.

Aamu will come back.

Aamu has to come back.

Then father and daughter would talk endlessly – their language - Love!