In a world where ‘selfless’ is increasingly becoming an anomaly, I encounter a renaissance, an initiation into an untouched world of pure love every day through the tiny acts and innocent quips my daughter flings my way.
From the numerous cards lovingly crafted to the sweets that she brings back from school for me, tightly held in her chubby fingers and fast metamorphosing into liquid chocolate in the hot desert sun, streaking down her fist, there are numerous occasions when she catches me off guard by her little nameless “acts of kindness and love”.
Be it quick runs to the local grocery or a breakfast trip, she accompanies me, with her carefully assembled baggage in tow — teddy bears, kitchen set, pouches and numerous small treasures from her tiny collection. Once we were on our way out for the usual hasty shopping in preparation for the working week ahead. Grabbing my house keys, I searched for her. I could hear the restless jingling of coins from the inner room, clear indication that precious time is being wasted in silly child play. Losing my patience, I yelled,” Can you come QUICKLY, we are running LLLATE!” She came out running, holding a couple of coins in her tiny cupped palm she stuttered, “I was getting change for you, in case you need it for the cab.” My eyes misted over as I stared into two anxious eyes, brimming with unshed tears.
Saturday nights are the toughest as the next five days I am with her only a few hours, a few precious hours to hold her tiny, chubby hand, to read stories, to paint senselessly, and to answer the ever increasing pile of queries. One such night, preparing for the rituals of the coming week, I held her close and whispered, “I wish mama could put you in her handbag and carry you wherever she goes.” She looked at me and nodded in affirmation, before quietly quipping, “But don’t zip me up.”
“Why Maansi?” I asked.
“Because I will not be able to see you …” she quietly replied, as big fat tears tumbled down her lovely cheeks. I held her close, overwhelmed, wondering at the selflessness of this incredible little being that I can call mine in every sense. A few weeks later, cuddling her, I whispered,” I wish I could eat you up. You are so sweet.”
“OK mama”, she gave her consent willingly, without hesitation, “but don’t eat me fully.”
“Why?” I inquired playfully.
Dumbfounded
“Don’t eat my eyes, because I will not be able to see you”, she rattled on thoughtfully, as if weighing the possibility of not being able to see me. I stared at my beautiful daughter dumbfounded. Could I ask for a more pure love?
And then one day, we were curled up snug in one of the large, bottomless sofa chairs in a popular food outlet, watching animal cartoons while waiting for our order. It was one of those Thursdays when you are far too tired to prise open your eyes, let alone eat. Watching a squirrel happily perched on a tree branch, drowsing off to sleep, I sighed, “I wish I were a squirrel…….”.
“O mama, I wish I were a baby squirrel…..in your lap”, she chirped instantaneously. Yes, she’s done it again. Disarmed by her innocent love, I could only gaze at her, speechless.
Acceptance is an ever receding yearning, unconditional acceptance of who you are that evades you as much as the yearning intensifies. And face to face with absolute acceptance right here in my home, I couldn’t ask for more. I truly have the world in my palm ... and so do all mothers, in all corners of the world!!!
Bhavana Koliyot is a Dubai based freelance writer.
