A sharp rap
of something falling woke me up. I rubbed my eyes and looked around as she
snuggled up into my quilt. I picked up the clock on the bedside table it showed
1:30 a.m. The reading lamp was still on and the copy of “Of Love and Other
Demons” had fallen off my chest on the carpet.
“Are you
awake?” She asked, her voice husky with sleep.
“Yeah, what
happened sweetheart?” I asked.
“Couldn’t
sleep.”
I pulled her
up over my chest and kissed her forehead. Her head moved as my chest rose up
and down as I breathed.
“What is
love?” She asked.
“Umm what…?”
I wasn’t prepared for such a question from her in the
middle of the night.
“Do you
know what love is?” She asked sitting up beside me. She rubbed her brown
eyes. Her black hair tumbled down on her shoulders as I held her by her waist
thinking over her question.
“Well”, I
said, pushing a strand of hair away from her forehead, “Love is what’s between
you and me. I love you.”
“Why do you
love me?”
I looked at
her amazed.
“I love you
because… you are the most beautiful girl I know. And because you share your chocolates
with me. I love you because you look like me when you laugh.” I said, tickling
her ribs. She wiggled in my grip, laughing and laid her head on my chest.
“Does mom
love me?”
A flurry of
memories came back to me in an instant. The fights over petty things had begun
two years after our marriage. Some days it would be just a few minutes of
silence followed by a bit of making up with flowers and kisses followed by
passionate love making. On other days she would lock herself up, until she
cried herself hoarse.
“Yeah she
does.” I replied with a sigh patting her small back.
“Do you love
mom?”
I played
with her hair. My thoughts still traced our common path which had come to a
point where Ira decided to take a different turn. She wanted to continue with
her career in advertising. I did not want my daughter growing up under the care of a hired help. She filed for divorce and a long battle for the custody of our
daughter started. I won the case but the win left me emotionally exhausted and
a sour taste in the mouth.
“Dad?” She
raised her head and looked at me. I saw her eyes were exactly like Ira’s.
“Yeah, I was
in love with her.” I replied.
“Was! You
mean you are not in love with her anymore?”
I smiled
wondering how her little head could analyse so much. Ira always told me her
thought process was like me.
“Why doesn’t
she live with us? Why does she live with someone else?”
I didn’t have
the answers to her questions, only excuses. She sensed it in my eyes.
“I think
love is a living being.” She said.
“Really! How?”
I asked, surprised at the seriousness of her voice.
“Yeah, you
see it begins, like being born and then it lives for some time and then it dies,
like between you and mom.”
I looked
blankly through her. The love between me and Ira was born when we were in
college, but it was short lived and had died long before it could grow.
“Miss Shalini says sharing
is loving. Is it true dad?”
“Yes it is,
in a way.”
“You
remember the donut you packed me for tiffin this morning?”
I nodded.
“Well I shared
it with Aamir.”
“You mean
the boy who saves a seat for you in the bus every day.”
“Yeah, and
he shared a cheese sandwich with me. I think we are in love.” Her innocent voice was
heavy with sleep. I smiled seeing my daughter growing up so fast.
