Small truths

I love three year olds .I do – but believe you me, this cannot be coincidental. Not if it happens to me every single time. It must be part of some larger pattern, which I with my limited understanding of greater truths ,have no clue of.

Apologies, you do not know what I am talking about.Simply this, that if I were to go out to dinner, on the table behind me, or adjacent to me , or just in front of me there is a 2- 3 year old. Invariably .This kid has generally had a bad day and is hell bent on giving a bad evening to his parents .So anytime between a quarter hour to half ,he/she gets cranky , wails , makes impossible demands and generally creates such a racket that I do not feel so loving anymore. And, this happens irrespective of time and place.

I was sitting in the bar at " the Promenade", mellowing down after a most suspiciously green cocktail .Alone –yes ,at that time .Surely friends would drop by, but I did not want to be all gung ho and gang ho, you know what I mean.One cocktail down I rambled into the dining hall, glass still in hand and decided to attack the buffet with an energy all those who cook once a week (for the whole week) possess.

Out of nowhere came a ball of red. He was running .Kids run , not to things or away from them. They just run for the heck of it ,for the pleasure of it . But this little guy was at sputnik speed, and me with my slowed down reflexes, a collision was bound to happen .His teeth banged my knee, the remnants of the green was on my beige shirt, and the poor fellow obviously fell down .While I and his mother ( the lady a close runner up could still not match son's speed given her considerable volume ) picked him up , he was still wriggling in a fashion unbelievably similar to trapped lobsters -and was yelling for all he was worth. Well things eventually settled down , I checked for his broken teeth ( I am sure I had incisions on my knee , but could not check) , mother apologized for her son’s behavior and hauled him back .

The captain of the dining lounge guided me to my favorite table and sure enough red ball was sitting at the one opposite to it.I sat down to my food , and started thinking where I had put away the book called 2000 clues to stain removal .I was sure I would not find it, and even if I did there would be nothing about green cocktails on beige shirts.

The Red kid was actually now sitting on the table and breaking papads into bits, and strewing them on to the carpet , rather artistically. The father sat alone , reading through a boring looking file , the mother had disappeared. So he sat on the table and went on with his job, only now he was looking at me with a lot of curiosity- from under round unbatting eyes.I glared back , and tried to look serious , but at the corners of my mouth a smile nudged its way out .The boy leaped down, and came up to my table, papad in hand.A foot and a half away he stood and stared on.

“Hello “ I said .

No answer.He was actually a sweet heart , pink cheeks fluffed out on a very thin body , big head and porcupine hair. Saucer like round eyes , coal black.“What is your name ?” I asked.
No answer still.I beckoned him then.
He was amazingly slow , suddenly a bit scared.I held out my hand and he put up his, extremely cautious..
“What is your name ?” I asked again.
“Whats yours”? He asked. He spoke English but his words did not end -so it was “waz youz”“Dihing – I said.” “Ding” , he repeated gravely.
I smiled.“My name is Nadeem “
“Ah a Nadeem” – Nice name .“And are they your papa and mummy.?” I asked , ( stupid question ?)
He nods vigorously. Offers me the papad , now a bit soggy , but offer of friendship nevertheless.
“Ding,” he says – “wez youz pappa?”I smile , At Calcutta I tell him“
An.. your mamma ?”
“Also at Calcutta beta ,”
I say.And where is taltatta ?he lisps.“Oh its very far away …”
“Why ?...” he asks , his yes shining
What why ?I think…He looks at me strangely.
”Who stays with you then.?”I pat him on his had.
“Nobody , my dear” .I say.
“Aren’t you scared? “I shake my head ,” no- sometimes maybe,” I tell him “
”Don’t worry,” he tells me his voice now small,
“I will come and stay with you .OK ?”
"Ok" I say Mother is back and calling for Nadeem , “don’t disturb aunty now ..” ,to me she smiles apologetically.
Nadeem rushes back again.I pick up my fork and look at the grilled fish.
All of a sudden I miss my mustard fish curry and rice. A flood of memories, of parents and brother, of loud laughter of many staying togethers buzz inside me. A strange knot forms at my throat and I want to run , like Nadeem , just run and run .I know I did not have answers to his questions. I also did not have answers to my own. He actually has questions though, while the likes of us are looking for them.And this is what a 3 year old can do to you.