Nonu's welcome to her home, as we tried fixing the pillows and place to sleep as she came into her home for the first time, and initial confusion finally gave way to love and affection, which all felt, irrespective of whichever side of familial line they might be falling on. It was strange to think that she is coming into this house as a guest for the first time and this is the house she will call her home for a long time to come. The family, as one, came together to celebrate Chatthi- sixth day from the birth. Nonu had her first bath at home. I can never forget the soft feeling of trust as I had first touched her with tenderness and put her to water. With so much of trust the baby puts herself in your hands as you put her semi-immersed into the tub of water, you can not stop feeling deeply protective about her. After all her cries as she feels the water for the first time, she gets cozy in the arms of the same person who had put her through this foreign feeling of fear probably for the first time in the life. As years go by, why forgetting becomes so difficult, and forgiving even more? Would she be able to forgive and forget so easily when she is a teenager and I force her to a way which I presume to be the best for her (Baba knows the best syndrome, hope I will be able to counter it), and will she be able to come back and cuddle into my arms with the trust that even when I may be suggesting a path contrary to her views, it will always be her interest of prime importance to me. Will she always have the same trust? Two days of festivities, went well: Nonu went yellow, all the while maintaining a brave front, and we finally took her to the Doctor at eight thirty on Sunday night, as she was admitted in for Photo Therapy to Max Saket again. I wanted to come back home but after days of child in the house, the thought of house without Nonu in there, even with a sea of people seemed so empty and vacant that I could not even gather courage to think about going back.Getting into the habit of looking at the innocent face, which did not even understood the formality of smiling back when smiled at, made it so difficult to come back to the coldness of the home without her. Thankfully, this sojourn to the hospital ended within 48 hours, as she came back, reassuringly, happy and healthy. She however, in the short time could really made me feel for the first time the bitter truth of what they call empty nest.
Picture Courtesy- GettyImages I am an only child, though not a child anymore. My childhood went in search of friendships outside the home, and waiting for the evening to come by to immerse into those rare moments of camaraderie. Our days, the Pre-Appu childhood, was largely supervised by our parents. I do not much remember visiting my friend’s place in childhood. Much unlike my daughter and her friends who keep meeting up in their homes. My friends were kids of my father’s colleagues and we met when they met. Friendships were formed and finished in the children park. The interspersed period of loneliness was filled up by books. It was from Comics to pocket-books to Geeta Press to even, Indian Classics like Ramayana and Mahabharata . They filled up my days of solitude with rare happiness. I was called introvert and adults left me alone. It was an arrangement which we both liked. There was no other arrangement in the view. For some reasons, parents those days did not appr...
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