To Dear Daughter on your 3^rd Birthday!

I recently read “The Prophet” by Kahlil Gibran again! This storehouse of wisdom is indeed a revelation and you gain something new every time you read it.

Something on Life! 

Something on Living!

Of particular interest to me this time; was his essay on children. The profound lines lingered with me long after I read and reread them:

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.

On 30^th April our daughter Aamu celebrated her third birthday. 

On her D - day as she pranced about happily in her bright red frilly frock, shimmering silver coloured shoes, with a silver tiara and matching bangles (which she would on purpose time and again jingle just to show off ) I wondered in silent amazement – this little daughter of mine - does she really belong to me?

The way in which Aamu carries herself amongst her peers, her new found confidence and gait; the slight tilting of her head when she is explaining something to her mom; the business like demeanour when she mockingly chides her brother, her sprightly laugh, her endless chatter, those never ending “whys?” and above all – her classic one liners and witty retorts – where on earth does she get them from?

I love her, fuss about her, pride in her, flaunt her and try to control her.

Why?

You may strive to be like them, 

but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

Why did Aamu and I meet? What significance do I hold in her life? Is this a mere father daughter relation or is it something deeper.

Maybe she is a promise I made to life - to further its longing for itself.

I did not choose Aamu; I am the chosen one!

You are the bows from which your children

as living arrows are sent forth.

Alea iacta est ("The die is cast")

The Creator is merciful. My significance in her life is decided.

This grace is purely divine; a higher calling and I need to be worthy of this choice.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, 

and He bends you with His might 

that His arrows may go swift and far.

I surrender myself to this bending.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as He loves the arrow that flies, 

so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Father string me well; for I am the carrier of a new hope, a new promise.

This birthday Aamu; I have not given you any riches or fairy kingdoms to play with.

A silent promise is what I offer at your feet. I do not know how or why you chose me, why do you clasp my hand so tightly; but what I know is this – that I will forever hold your hand and keep your trust.

I have not come here in vain; for in you I have found my purpose!

Happy birthday again Dear Daughter!  

To dear daughter on your first day of School

Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You're off to Great Places!
You're off and away!*

My dearest dear Aamu,

Today morning when I opened my eyes, there was something magical about the moment. For the first few minutes I could not move, held captive by the realization that today will be your first day at school!  

 

Then I tiptoed into your room to steal a glance at you, my little one. There you were – up and awake and fussing about getting ready to embark on one of the most important sojourns of life – School. Your mom’s and my eyes met and I am sure we both felt the same thing – our baby is now grown up! 

Time, you old gypsy man,

Will you not stay,

Put up your caravan

Just for one day?**  

You saw and came bundling towards me. As I lovingly picked you and threw you up in the air and back to the safety of my arms; you squealed with delight. You did not want me to put you down; instead gave me one of those special Aamu hugs – a big tight wrap around squeeze with your little arms. I could sense your excitement on the events of this special today as much as you could sense mine. 

Oh, there is so much to share with you. But I hated to pull you out of that moment; you looked amazingly beautiful checking out your new school dress and new shoes (yes; those magical ones!) Pirouetting in front of the mirror like a ballerina; you asked your mom the tenth time to comment on your new get up. Yes sweetheart, you look like a fairy, I nodded in agreement with your mom. 

Hence I am writing this. You could read this once you are back from school or maybe we could go over this together when I return from office. 

Aamu, these are few tips that I am sharing with you, stuff that I and your mom learnt over the years. You could call this experience we want to pass on or simply put, the love and care of two over concerned and over anxious parents. Hahaha! (See, how nervous I am!) 

Ok. So let’s start. 

School –  Twinkle, Twinkle little star, How I wonder what you are? How you are?

 

Sweetie, school is an extension of home where you will have the friendliest of persons – your teacher to take care of you while you are away from us. Respect her. Love her. Listen to her. Ask her any question you want to. Hold her hand whenever you need comfort. Learn as much as you want to. School will also have other children like you. Play with them. Share with them your love and kindness and tiffin. Yes, yes even your favorite noodles! C’mon; mamma will pack you more. Remember; this is just the start – the beginning of an exciting phase in your life. 

Where elephants fly and fishes run

 

Darling, starting today you will learn so many new things. But; like I always tell you - do not believe everything you see or hear. Don’t be afraid to question. Be imaginative – the world is your canvas – splash it in the colors you want to. Mix your colors well. Use bold strokes. Paint the town pink, violet, indigo, magenta! So what if people say elephants can’t fly and fishes can’t run. Smile, roll your eyes over, tilt your head and say – yes, they can! Coz’ in your little heart you know they can. Wink, wink! 

Fight back, Fight hard

Sweetheart, in school you will find other boys and girls of your age. Reach out to them. Talk to them. Have fun with them. Climb trees with them. But when it comes to that one or two special ones choose wisely. These beautiful friendships; and it is okay if you have just one; will be for life. Remember there is no pressure of you belonging to any group. Trust your guts. Be bold. Say no – if there is something you do not want to do. Accept no bully. Oh! School will have many. Stand up for the one who is being bullied. Also don’t bully anyone. Fight back! Fight hard! No being sissy. But no name calling and hitting below the belt. Okay? 

Sssshhh……..I’ll tell Ma and Pa

Little one; now this is going to be tricky. Never do anything that you cannot share with your mom and dad or your teacher. Reach out to us if you find something amiss. Immediately! Whoever asks you to keep mum – beware! Remember you are in a school and not on a secret mission. Don’t worry about time or day or place or people – if you need to ask – ASK – ask for help; if you need to shout - SHOUT – shout for help.    

Well, that will be it for now. I see that you and your mom are almost ready; now it is my turn. After all; today is going to be my first day at your school too!  I promise I will rush back home in the evening, and then together; we can read this.  

Remember doll, you have such fine brains and such fine shoes (yes, those magical ones with wings) and you are off to a great start.  

Today is your day!

Your mountain is waiting.

So...get on your way! 

And will you succeed?

Yes! You will, indeed!

(98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed.) 

KID, YOU'LL MOVE MOUNTAINS!* 

Trust your Baba, you will! (Am adding the remaining 1¼ percent) 

Love you my little monkey…and lotsa potsa hugs and kisses! 

God bless!

Yours Baba

 

*Quoted from Dr. Seuss “Oh, the Places You will Go!”

** By Ralph Hodgson

 

To dear daughter on your 2^nd Birthday

                                                              Part 1

30 April 2015

My dearest dearest dear daughter Aamu,

By the time you read this you would have started school and been introduced to the alphabet. I wanted to defer writing this then, however there’s so much to share; that I simply could not hold myself back.

This April you will complete two summers. Wow! A fine young lady you will be!

Time flies. It seems like yesterday when you were wheeled in and handed over to me. I was trembling with excitement. Oh! How I longed to hold you; my little bundle of joy!  Yet I was scared. What if I dropped you?

You were so tiny. The attendant showed me how to swaddle you in a blanket with the folds neat and tight to keep you warm, how to place one hand below your head for support and how to pick you. Don’t tell your mom this – my first attempt came a cropper – I had the blanket in my arms and a naked baby on the bed! Oh! God that “my dad is so clumsy?” look you gave me!

Since then I have practiced hard in all departments of bringing up a daughter. I know I am not a super dad but have not done a shabby job either!

Picking you up the right way, singing your favorite lullabies (your mom tells me I am a horrible singer,) changing your diapers, and replying the nth time to your question: “Ma kothai? Where is Mom?” This is when you could see your mom standing next to you. I love doing it all.

Or when you come running and adsfdfoidfekngngeoq{}|\82093492….that’s you sitting on my laptop keys. Or asking me to play the dolphin video (remember the one in which dolphins do that crazy Zulu dance in the pool) ten times in a row – and each time watching it more curiously than before. And I had to pretend; I too; was enjoying the show!

Or when you would pick things up and throw them with gay abandon without an iota of care for your father’s hard earned money. Or when you would gleefully put your hand in the dustbin and rummage through the discards and on being scolded make such a piteous face and come running and wrap your arms ( the dirty ones of course) around my legs imploring me to pick you up. A moment’s delay would invite your wailing – as if I did not understand you and your crocodile tears!

I have chuckled with every chuckle of yours and cried every time you cried. Each time you call me Baba (father in Bangla) my entire being melts with an unspeakable joy. And my heart goes pitter patter!

Aamu, from you I have learnt the true meaning of unconditional love. You have taught me the ephemeral nature of being. To enjoy in the mundane! To be happy without a reason! If someone were to ask me the single greatest thing you have taught me - it is this – childlike innocence and to see the world around with wonder!

You are curious. You ask a lot of questions. You love to experiment. The rising sun is your friend. The prancing of the squirrel from one bough to another spreads a smile on your lips. You laugh (oh that spirited uninhibited laugh of yours) when you are happy and cry when you are sad. You dance without a care in the world and find it difficult to hold yourself back from splash splashing in the rain.

You have taught these and much more. I feel blessed being a dad and more so in having you as my daughter.

On your birthday Aamu; I wish you all a dad can wish for his daughter – health, happiness and good cheer!

Happy birthday little one - live a blessed and divine life.

Grow up Strong! Grow up Great!

With lots and lots of love, hugs and kisses!

Yours Baba

 

                    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!

Asha – the dawn of new Hope

Asha – the dawn of new Hope

Everyone in the Ghosh family loves Asha. She is the centre of attraction in this family of lawyers. Subarnalata Ghosh the sixty year old matriarch of the family fusses about her the most.

Subarnalata’s typical day starts early. After her daily worship in the natmandir where the family deity is kept she rushes to the kitchen to fix breakfast for the little girl. Asha must have this, she must not have that, she needs to drink more milk, eat less of candies, have green vegetable soup, blah, blah, blah...  The instructions have become almost sacrosanct to the kitchen staff that they can talk about them on and on ad infinitum. That too verbatim!

The Ghosh family is a very prominent family of South Calcutta. Nilendu Ghosh the grand-father of Subarna was a barrister who practiced alongside the likes of Gandhi and Nehru. He took part in the Quit India movement and had even courted arrest. His son Madhav Kanti Ghosh followed his father’s footsteps and earned fame as a lawyer in the Calcutta high court.

Madhav Kanti had no son. His wife Sudeshna bore him two lovely daughters Subarnalata and Snehlata. The daughters when they grew up kept the family tradition alive by studying law. After her marriage Snehlata settled in the US to work for an international law firm.

Subarna was always the maverick. Her father would jokingly say “Subarna you wear the pants in the house.”  During her college days no one dared pick on her.  The boys literally trembled in her presence. Famous for her oratorical skills and razor sharp mind her teachers and colleagues did not shy from consulting her in many matters. She stopped entering college competitions for fear of gaining a walkover!

Subarna never married. She knew from an early age that she was never cut out for this game. For the likes of Subarna life is too short to be wasted in such trivialities. They are made for bigger pursuits of life.

After her father passed away Subarna become the face of the family. Completing her law degree she started practicing in the Calcutta high court. She had a sharp eye for details and a keen sense of justice. She would never argue a case for the wrong person or for the wrong reason. She turned away many high profile cases if she did not believe either in the case or the person.

Her passion to fight for the poor and the needy took up most of her time. She was their messiah. Every morning before going to court she would meet people for an hour or two. These meetings were highly sought after, and people would come to them from far off places. They become so popular that everyone lovingly called them her “durbar.”

She met Asha in one such “durbar.” Catching her mother’s sari pallu in her mouth, the little one looked at Subarna with her big kohl rimmed eyes. She was terribly filthy and flies swarmed around the corners of her mouth. Yet there was a spark in the girl’s eyes that immediately attracted Subarna.

Both the mother and child seemed hungry. They also needed a proper set of clothes. Subarna instructed her secretary to take care of their needs and asked them to come the next day. She also gave the mother money for the to and fro travel.

The next morning Subarna asked her secretary to cancel all her appointments. She was in her lawn glancing through the morning newspaper when the secretary informed her that the pair had arrived. She asked her secretary to make sure they had breakfast etc.

The mother looked slightly better that day. The little girl’s eyes were red and puffed. It seemed she had cried the entire night. Subarna could not control herself anymore. She asked the mother to narrate her story.

Parnami was from a remote village in 24 Parganas, a district in West Bengal. Her only claim to fame was a one acre land which her husband had left behind. Four years ago he fell prey to an unknown illness and was found dead in a field by fellow laborers. She was then expecting this child.

With her husband dead and no one to turn to; she realized how fortunate she had been so far. Not that there was any love lost between them. The husband drank, beat her mercilessly; at times would bring other women home; yet he also provided a roof and two square meals a day. 

Women of her ilk do not expect much. They are sold off in marriage at a very young age by a father who considers them to be a burden and is happy to wash his hands off. The husband (so called) who buys her is only interested in her physically and cares hoots in according her the status of a legally wedded wife. With no education and no social support; women like Parnami resign themselves to their fate till one day they wake up to find that their own fate has also discarded them.

Things changed for Parmani completely the day her husband died. His funeral pyre was still alight when someone knocked at her door. It was eleven in the night. She opened the door thinking it would be another of those elderly dames coming to console her. She was shocked to see the village money lender. Reeking of alcohol he barely managed to hold himself straight. He pushed the door open and barged in.

This was nothing new. The money lender had been making advances at her even when her husband was alive. He was a   powerful man and no one dared question him or his activities.

That night Parnami pleaded with the money lender to leave her alone. The husband’s pyre was still burning and she wanted to mourn. But the money lender had something else in his mind.  As he moved towards Parnami she screamed as hard as she could and pushing him aside and ran out of the room to the street outside. Hearing her shrieks the villagers came out.

The night the money lender left; but Parnami knew that he would come again. She dreaded their next meeting.

The next few days were unusually calm. Parnami slowly picked up the threads of her torn life. Asha was born. Money was always a scarcity yet Parnami somehow managed to eke a living. She worked as a causal labour when work was available and during times of no work as a domestic help. Her sole possession was the land. However that too was pawned with the money lender.

One day at work Parnami fainted. Initially she thought working in the sun must have taken its toll. However when it started happening almost every other day she got worried. The local doctor referred her to the city hospital.

Carrying her little savings and Asha in tow Parnami came to Calcutta. Her test results were not very positive. There was a malignant fibroid which had to be removed surgically. The cost – INR one lakh!

Narrating her tale so far Parnami fell at the feet of Subarna. Didi you are my last hope. I have heard a lot about you. Had I been alone it would not have mattered if I died. But the thought of leaving my Asha behind – no I cannot even die in peace.

Subarna helped her get up. Asha by now had started crying. Subarna very lovingly picked her up. Summoning her secretary she asked her to take care of the little one by taking her inside the house and making her comfortable.

To Parnami she said. Do you want me to lend you money?

No Didi, no I do not want any money but if you help me win my land back; I can sell it off and pay for the operation. Parnami was fighting a losing battle with her tears.

Yes I can help you with that; Subarna said putting an arm around Parnami.

But Didi I do not have a single paisa for your fees Parnami said with downcast eyes.

Oh! That is okay – don't worry. Anyways could you tell me in detail about your land? So saying Subarna took out her notepad to jot down all details.

The very next morning Subarna filed a case against the money lender. It took just three hearings. Subarna was so good in court that the judge had to exclaim that this was her best case ever!

But fate had other things planned. Parnami had to undergo three major operations to remove the fibroid. The doctors tried hard however were not able to save her. The fibroid had turned very nasty and spread to all her major organs. She died.

For the first time in her life Subarna seemed worried. For the next couple of days she cancelled all her appointments. Even with her own family she turned very aloof. She shut herself up in her room and only came out for her meals.

At the end of almost two week she surprised everyone by calling a press conference.

On the conference day in the room full of journalists and on live TV she said - Folks I have called this conference to introduce you all to my daughter - Asha Subarnalata Ghosh.

You could almost hear the silence in the room!

But that is so typical Subarna.

And that is how she has been throughout her life…!

Amolika

 Amolika

Khoka stared at the console recording the fetal heart rate. There was something amiss. Just then the nurse entered the room. Khoka asked if all was okay. She looked at the machine, examined the wife and immediately rushed out. A few minutes she came back accompanied by the doctor. “We need to shift your wife to the operation theater (OT); could you please go with the nurse and sign the consent form”?

“What is the matter, doctor? Will someone tell me”? Khoka did not realize his voice had risen. But the doctor was not there to explain. As the attendant wheeled his wife to the OT; Khoka did not know what had hit him. He wanted to cry.

This would be Khoka and his wife’s second child.

The first one did not survive!

With both of them over thirty and the wife recuperating from the earlier trauma – both physical and mental - the news that she had conceived again brought a glimmer of hope in their almost barren lives!

Without an iota of doubt they knew it was divine grace.  All that was required of them was trust and faith and to simply play their part in the plan.

Easier said than done!!!

Pacing in the front of the OT anxious for the news; he felt his nerves would snap anytime unable to bear the pressure. Tottering he sat on a bench and did not realize when he dozed off.

The last few months had been very tumultuous for Khoka. Weekly visits to the doctor and test laboratories, collecting reports to assisting his wife with the laundry, grocery and in the kitchen; his days were almost chock-a-bloc. He also had to manage work without taking too many leaves. You never know when an extra leave might come in handy.

The doctor wary of the wife’s previous history wrote numerous tests and prescribed scores of medicines. This pregnancy was precious and she was very clear of not taking any chances.

Instructed by the doctor Khoka had to inject his wife a daily dose of heparin – a blood thinner. His wife’s blood had the tendency to thicken and had prevented the fetus to draw nutrition during the last pregnancy.

Oh! the day he had to take his wife for amniocentesis. Remembering that a cold chill ran down his spine. This is an invasive technique and the chances of miscarriage are 1 in 400. That day Khoka spent the toughest one hour of his life – the time his wife was in the doctor’s cabin undergoing the test.

The reports were all normal and the wife was responding well to the treatment. And then, at the onset of the ninth month of pregnancy her hemoglobin count fell below the mark. The doctor altered medicines however even after a week when the count did not increase; she added another injection. Poor Khoka! Imagine his plight. His wife now had to take two injections daily.

Khoka, O Khoka – get up, the doctor is asking for you. The faint sound of someone calling out his name shook him out of the reverie.  He almost sprang to life! Realizing his surroundings he recognized the doctor standing at the entrance of the OT.

He crossed the distance in a leap. If he could he would have crossed an eon for this moment!

What Khoka saw cannot be described in words – they fail here like they always have...

Wrapped in a pink towel was a bundle of joy in pinkish hue; staring at Khoka with beautiful eyes! (Days later he would lovingly taunt his wife that his child recognized him the moment she was born...)

You had to be there to partake in Khoka’s joie de vivre. He said lot of things but his words were very incoherent. It is like when you see something which the senses cannot comprehend – something of the nature of unspeakable joy and eternal bliss. In fact such a sight makes the senses redundant.

Miracle of miracles! Did he hear what the doctor said? The delivery was normal and he has been blessed with a baby girl. Girl or boy Khoka did not know but when he wrapped the angel in his arms – he knew for a moment he held eternity!

Standing there – he realized one thing for sure – the Gods still loved him!  Cuddling his sweetheart, he gently lifted her to his lips and whispered in her tiny ear:

“I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times...

In life after life, in age after age, forever.

My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,

That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,

In life after life, in age after age, forever.

Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you
The love of all man's days both past and forever:
Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life.
The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours -
And the songs of every poet past and forever.” (Rabindranath Thakur, Selected Poems)

Khoka and his wife decided to call her Amolika.  Of Sanskrit origin it means “priceless.”

Amolika

Epilogue :
Amolika was born on 30th April at 04: 30 p.m. Khoka is now even more busier. The entire day he cannot help but steal glances at his little wonder and become full of love and joy for her.  When not doing that the father is busy changing nappies...:)