Laughing at her antics, I open the door and watch her bound up the stairs heading straight to the one place she is not supposed to be going too. Standing in the living room, I rub my arms feeling the breeze caressing my goose bumps from their hidden spots. Stepping down the three stairs, I reach my favorite spot in the house, the cozy arm chair with the warm reading light, that seems to bekon to me to curl in and read.
Bhelpuri forgotten in seconds, I stop my time travel to rush half yelling half dreading the scene i can only anticipate awaits me. Pausing at the open kitchen table, for a the ever so useful tissue box, i head up the wodden staircase, without registering the tiny photographs that litter the walls, or the mirror that had never been set straight after the afternoons mock debacle....
Yup. thought as much. Machku dear at her best. Trying hard to conceal my smile, i watched her trying to squirm below the crib, pretending to be invisible. She knew she was in trouble and her defense was to feign ignorance.. What me? Like really you think I woke up little Kabir? Come on you really think i was hovering around the crib trying to steal a stolen moment of intimacy? lick a baby .. and me! NEVER!!!............
Unable to resist, i sat down next to Machku and lay my head on her belly. Surprised at this turn of events, she happily licked my hand before flattening out on the floor. We both sat there, watching Kabu babies face, register the emotions of his dreams.
I watched the eye lashes, crinkle and the forehead crease. as he battled the baby hippo in his sleep, wearing his favorite ninja pants... saw his fists pump the air , and his baby fingers open up .. i slipped my finger in and he grasped it tight. so tight before collapsing his fist back on his chest.. Guess the baby Hippo had been sent packing to wherever he came from.
Like 2 old wives Machku and me sat peacefully, breathing in sync content at the warmth the little room seemed to create.. for what seemed like aeons.
Fuck i am so screwed.. dragging machku from her own hippo dreams, i raced downstairs and furiously began preparing for the surprise. Sheesh, i hope his tennis game goes on till the third set and i get some more time.
Pulling packets, tearing up the seasoning dinner is a quick gobbling session. Its food and lots of it thats needed to make sure he does not faint. as he keeps insisting that tennis shall make him do.. Sala Drama king. Shoving everything in the microwave, I hide the Manju Kapoor to ensure first readers rights and hop into the shower, much to the disgust of the silly dog.
Whew! almost done. 2 min to 8.30 pm and am set. ........ perfect timing.. missy ! the car swings in, the garage door creaks open, as the remote manages to get it act together and i hear laughter as he walks in through the door chattering non stop about his finest forehand that killed Mr. Showoffs game....
shaking my head, i watch my retarded grin spread all over my face, as i am engulfed in a bear hug, while listening to the magical strokes that did Mr. showoff in. Uff this man, this boy, this Goose of a character.. this pathetically crazy about life mad hatter.. who in the world did we end up here? and why in gods name did it take us so long?
i nestle into him, tuning into the conversation that is being bombarded into my ears, realizing it is now all FICTION.. Kill bill type razor strokes.. Like Really!.. I nip his chest and giggle as he yelps into the phone staring at me in mock horror... ASS!! Shut up and hang up will u............. and he does.
(dream? reality? me 2 years from now? yes/no? France? Sydney? Possible? who knows.......but the bones say this was real...it was.........)