He ran away and disappeared into the road leaving me flushed and confused. I sat back on the chair and reasoned that it is natural for a child to love the scent of its dam. Yet, more than that, it had a strange and diabolic emotional twang. It had an inexorable lure, a scintillating carnal appeal. It was preposterous at the same time it was euphoric.
Later in the morning, when the entire house was all to myself, I went to my bedroom to check out what he had left for me as a birthday gift. On the bed there was a bouquet of fresh roses and chrysanthemums. Attached to it was a paper which I plucked out and read with throbbing soul. I could not read it with the gentleness and softness of a mother reading her son’s missive of sweet nothings.
‘This Maundy Thursday, when the world observes a sublime event
I remember you and all the graces that the designer of the world showered on you
The seen and unseen ways you are cared for and the little pleasures your days are filled with.
I am happy for you and proud of you.
The words I left unsaid come and waltz for you multiplying a thousand fold
Those words remain eternally orphaned, until albeit unsaid, you have them heard
But another and another smile, when you sit back and remember awhile
The faces and events that crossed your mile and then you march abreast in regal style
You are the unit of the universe, a unit of grace, a paradigm of loving sacrifice
I read: life is 10% what you make of it and 90% how you take it.’
May your little gestures of love, expressed in a thousand little ways
That count the least to the macroscopic tumultuous whole
Count the most to the microcosmic few, even to me the least of all
On this birthday serene, may this my wish come true: May your days be awash with love,
Hope and dreams that are true and your days flush with an eternal now.’
There was another packet close by. I opened it and jerked out the curious contents. It contained a light blue gown and befitting lingerie. I wondered how he managed to get my right measurements. He knew that I loved light blue color, the color of infinity, the color of sweet ineffable sadness, the color of divinity. I decided to put them on when he is back, when I am fresh after a bath.
But my bathing has two stages. The first stage is by mid day, when there is enough warmth and sun. I opened my thick hair, dipped it in water and applied shampoo. Then I washed my face, head and neck. That much will suffice for the first part. By evening my hair will be dry. The dripping hair is an icky nuisance at night. I found myself humming all through the day as if I was pleased with myself. Life seemed more enticing. There is no living without loving and no loving without living.
Alex turned up exactly at five as expected. He came running to me and hugged me.
‘Did you put on the new dress?’
“We will do it dear, once I am bathed and clean.’ I promised and smiled sweetly.
‘Your hair smells sweet,’ he whispered and buried his faced into my hair.
‘It must be the shampoo,’ I suggested.
‘It is much more than the shampoo, it smells of you. Burrowing into your exquisite mane is like diving down a huge puff of mountain mist.’ He was forcefully inhaling as much as he could from my hair.