It is one of those rare moments when you feel like you are a witness to everything happening around you. It comes very rarely, but when it comes, you need to embrace it, because nothing is as blissful as the fleeting glimpse of being an observer and staying detached from everything and everyone around you.
I soak in this moment of calm as I purposefully walk away from the chaos and din of the wedding preparations. Once I step out of the gazebo that is being decorated, all sounds dim for me and that sole chair placed on a corner of the lawn invites me temptingly. I sit and a groan of relief escapes from me as my tired feet thank me for finally resting them.
When was the last time I sat? I don’t even remember. I have been totally caught up in the preparations for the wedding. In two hours, the guests will start coming. In three hours, the preparations that began six months ago will culminate with just the tying of a Mangalsutra.
After that, what?
I am unable to look past the moment. My mind literally goes blank when I think about the days after the wedding. How did it come to this?
I am a financial advisor, for heaven’s sake. Planning for the future is what I do best. Then how come Pravin Malhotra, one of the top-most advisors in his field, is drawing a blank about his future?
I think I can pinpoint the exact moment it all began.
---@@@---
I don’t want to open the report, specially not in front of Mehek. Something inside me already knows what it will state. I won’t be able to face Mehek. I won’t be able to see the disappointment in her eyes, eyes that have had a thousand dreams ever since we got married.
My trembling fingers relax when Mehek takes my hand in her soft one. I grasp it like I got a lifeline.
“It’s okay, Pravin. Let us read it together.” She says softly.
I nod and with an exhale, I open the envelope and we both read the reports.
It is exactly what I dreaded.
I am infertile.
Months and months of trying to conceive a baby take their toll on me as sheer anger overtakes me and I crumple the report.
Mehek takes my hands in hers. “Pravin, listen to me. It’s fine. All is fine. We both are enough for each other.” She says and lays her head on my shoulder. I hold her head, silently promising that I would do everything in my power to keep her happy.
---@@@---
We have come a long way since that day.
Some of the worst days of my life followed thereafter. I felt like a failure, especially because I knew how much Mehek was looking forward to become a mother.
Me? Not so much. I came from a dysfunctional family where my parents fought on a daily basis and finally separated when I was in my teens. I spent the week-days with my mother and week-ends with my father. Surprisingly, they both were on their best behavior when they were apart.
May be sometimes love does bring out the worst in two people. But when I got married, I had promised myself that I would never become that sort of a spouse. I would ensure that my home had a loving and nurturing environment and that it would become a place where my wife and my children would feel safe and loved.
Never in my wildest dreams had I ever imagined that I would be denied the pleasure of having children.
My mobile pings and brings me out of the reverie. I see the notification and smile. It is a simple message from Mehek but it sets my heart racing. I am ready.
I get up from the chair with renewed vigor and walk towards the hall. I want to see how my Mehek looks as the bride’s mother.
Every step I take towards the hall takes me mentally back to the day when Mehek finally became a parent and I did not.
---@@@---
Palak. That’s what Mehek wants to name her. A combination of both of our names.
I drive the car in silence while Mehek attempts to talk to the eight-year old girl sitting in the back of the car.
When Mehek suggested adoption, I readily agreed. But within me, there was a tornado of shame and hesitation. For me, adoption is the final straw on the nail, a reminder of my infertility. Everything inside me screamed against the decision. But there was a light in Mehek’s eyes when she talked about it. I did not want to be the one extinguishing that light. So I gave in.
Honestly when we had gone to the shelter, I thought Mehek would adopt a baby or infant. Instead, when she realized that there was an eight-year old child who had stayed un-adopted all these years, her heart went out to her.
Two months later, here we are, bringing Palak home.
She’s too thin but tall for her age. It is her eyes that unsettle me. It feels to me that they have been through a lot and have shed many a tear. They seem to stare right into my soul and read my deepest secret.
That I could not bond with her the way Mehek has already.
I tried. I really tried. But I cannot imagine myself being a dad to her. For me she will always be a constant reminder of my inability to become a parent the biological way. I do not hate or dislike her. I just don’t feel anything for her.
I glance at the mirror and find Palak looking at me curiously. I smile, hoping that she cannot read my mind and my attitude towards her.
But given my luck as a parent, I can bet she knows.
---@@@---
When I see Mehek dressed up in a glorious red lehenga, I feel like we have stepped back in time.
How does she look so gorgeous at the forty-eighth year of her life!? What is her secret to the happiness that glows in her face? And how do I get a tiny slice of that happiness?
She does a tiny swirl and raises her eyebrows in a silent question. I bring my thumb and forefinger together and spread my arms. I just need any excuse to hug her.
She giggles and walks towards me with a radiant smile that takes my breath away. If nothing else, I certainly didn’t fail at one thing.
I have ensured that she is happy, no matter what.
She hugs me around my waist and lays her head on my chest. I wrap my arms around her, taking care not to mess up her hair or her dupatta. I would never hear the end of it.
“All eyes are going to be on you today.” I murmur, basking in the contented feeling of holding my loved one close.
“On us. All eyes are going to be on us. You look so handsome!” She says and moves away from the hug giving me the once-over. “Your cream sherwaani perfectly complements my red lehenga.”
I roll my eyes. “Both were chosen by you. Stop fishing for more compliments.”
She laughs and taps my nose. Then she leans her head on my chest for another hug. As we stand like that, lost in our own small yet precious world, I wish time freezes at this point.
---@@@---
It has just been a month since Palak came into our lives. While Mehek and Palak hit it out right from the first day, I still feel like the proverbial third wheel in their relationship, unable to form a bond with Palak even after so many days.
I am cordial with her, sure. We have casual conversations every now and then. But the parent-daughter bond is sorely missing.
Palak is getting adjusted into her new school. Usually Mehek drops her but today it is my turn. Unfortunately, it is one of those days when nothing seems to work in your favor.
It was late by the time I dropped Palak outside her school in my scooter. She stands beside the vehicle and looks at the building with dread.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her. She looks terrified.
Her lips quiver. “I can hear the prayer. I am late. Teacher will scold me.” Her eyes well up.
I look at her and at the school building alternatively. Then I take a decision.
“Come on, hop in.” I tell her, gesturing to the seat behind me.
She looks at me in confusion.
I grin. “I am taking you home. Come on.”
She wipes her eyes in relief and sits behind me on the scooter.
Back at home, when Mehek glares at me, I simply shrug and say, ‘Her teacher would have scolded her.’
Needless to say, while Palak has been spared of her teacher’s scolding that day, I do not have the same luck with Mehek.
---@@@---
It has been a year since Palak came to our home. While she and Mehek quickly bonded the way only mothers and daughters can, I was still pretty much lagging behind as a parent.
I mean, I do spend a lot of quality time with Palak but it is usually with Mehek providing a comforting buffer for me with her presence.
As I watch the news one particular evening, Palak comes and sits beside me on the sofa.
“Is there anything you want to watch?” I ask her, deftly changing channels. The news is too bleak. At least children should grow under the assumption that life is rosy and blissful.
She shakes her head, looking at me with eyes that seem to stare right into my soul. In the year that she has lived with us, she has put on some much-needed weight. Her eyes are no longer daunt. Just brimming with a world of curiosity.
“Did you want a younger child?” She asks me out of the blue.
To say that I am stunned would be an understatement. I switch off the television and turn around to face her. “What made you think so?”
She shrugs. “Just wondering. Most people I saw in the shelter adopted children who were much younger than me. I thought maybe you too wanted a baby or someone younger.”
Her blatant admission renders me speechless. I have heard that children can often pick up the emotions or vibrations of people around them. Never in my wildest nightmares did I ever imagine that Palak would catch up with my hesitation when it comes to her.
I have messed this up so bad.
“Listen, buddy…” I say and then I stop. Buddy… it is as if some cloud hovering over my mind just cleared. I may not be able to be a father to her, but I can treat her just like a friend would.
“I am so sorry if I gave you any wrong idea about my feelings for you.” I say, hoping that Palak would read the sincerity in my words. “Why don’t we start as friends? What do you say, buddy? Are you all up for an older friend?”
She looks at me curiously and then grins. It is the first time she is grinning at me like she means it. “Okay. What should I call you?”
For some reason, the topic of what she should address me as has never come up till now. Mehek quickly became Mom for her but I have always been an enigma, I guess.
“How about ‘Pal’? You call me ‘Pal’ and I will call you ‘Buddy’. Is that okay with you?” I offer my palm for a hi-five. She obliges with a smile.
And thus begins my friendship with my buddy, Palak.
---@@@---
My phone pings with a message from Mehek – ‘Yippee! Palak got her first period today! Our girl is growing up!’
I smile at Mehek’s enthusiasm. Her whole world revolves around Palak. It has been four years with Palak and while I am nowhere near the parenting department, I am happy that I and Palak are best buddies.
I tap my fingers on the steering wheel. I want to do something special for Buddy on her special day. Then it strikes me. When Mehek gets period cramps, she inhales chocolate like it’s a lifeline for her.
On the way home, I stop at a cake shop and buy a chocolate cake with the letters ‘Congrats Buddy!’ written on it.
At home I see Buddy sitting over the sofa, a sullen expression on her face. It makes me smile. She is every bit a tomboy and I am sure that this is a new and unfamiliar experience for her. Mehek hugs me with glee and then gestures me to be silent.
“She didn’t take it well.” Mehek whispers in amusement. I nod and approach the new teen.
“Hey Buddy…I brought cake.” I say.
That gets her attention. “Which flavor?”
“Chocolate.”
She nods and wordlessly heads over to the kitchen to bring three bowls. Soon the three of us binge on chocolate cake while watching a wrestling match and cheering for the winning guy.
---@@@---
At the age of fifteen, Buddy is having her first boxing match in her school. Mehek has gone to watch it.
Me? I couldn’t. I convinced myself that I do not want to watch kids box and fight against each other. But deep within, I know the reason.
I am scared. Scared that Buddy will get hurt. So I chickened out.
I am so not getting the award for Best Pal Ever. (‘Dad’ is out of the question now.)
I pace from one room to another in my home both dreading and awaiting Buddy’s return.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, I hear the door-bell ring. I literally run to open it. Mehek bristles by, but not before glaring at me and furiously whispering ‘Traitor!’. I cringe and look at Buddy.
There is a bruise near her jaw that is quickly turning blue even as I watch it. Her lip has a cut and there is a slight smear of blood there. But that girl is grinning.
‘I won!’ She says with glee.
“But you are hurt.” That’s all I can focus on.
“Oh you should look at my opponent.” She says smugly.
I can’t help it. May be the stress catches up with me, or the relief of seeing her back not entirely uninjured but still fine, I burst out laughing. And the girl laughs right with me.
“Go take a shower and meet me in the kitchen. You need some first-aid.” I say, hoping against hope that Buddy would not go ahead with her tryst in boxing.
‘Okay. I need to get fit soon. There is a match next month.” She casually drops the bomb.
I sigh. May be I should start the medicines prescribed for hypertension.
---@@@---
I look at my watch and shake my head. These girls were taking forever.
Who would have thought that Buddy would grow up so soon, would fall in love with a guy from her college who now works in the same company as hers, and would decide to get married!? Why do girls grow up so soon!?
I could not look at another lehenga without getting a migraine so I came out of the shop for some much needed fresh air. Shopping is really not for me.
I spare a look inside through the glass door of the boutique. Mehek is placing a lehenga – a pink monstrosity – over Buddy to see how it looks on her.
I frantically raise my hands, hoping to catch Buddy’s attention. She looks at me and nods in amusement when I shake my head urgently. Anything but the pink horror!
I keep watching the girls as they sort through the mountain of lehengas displayed by the shopkeeper who looks extremely tired. Buddy picks up a lehenga shaded in dark blue colour. She places it over herself and looks at me questioningly.
This is the one. I can easily see her in this beautiful hue. I nod and give her a thumbs-up. Mehek looks at her and then me alternatively and places her hands on her hips. She angrily gestures to me to come inside the shop.
Feeling defeated, I get in, willing for time to speed up.
---@@@---
There is just a week left for the wedding. I take a much-needed break one weekend early morning and sit beside the window of my kitchen. It is still dawn and the hour is blissfully quiet. I sip the coffee I have prepared and smile in contentment.
So far life has been good. Mehek is happy. And while I never really became a Dad to Buddy, she easily considers me as her pal and we have a strong bond of friendship that doesn’t really need any title. The icing on the cake? Buddy’s new home after marriage isn’t very far from mine. So thankfully the pangs of separation haven’t set in yet.
A man couldn’t ask for more.
“You are up early.” Buddy says as she walks into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes.
I look at her trying to fight her yawn, dressed in her sleep-pajamas and her hair plaited in two. It makes me smile. When did this child grow up enough to get married!?
“So are you.” I say. “Good morning. What’s up? Couldn’t sleep?”
She sits on the chair opposite to me and stares outside the window. “No.”
Just one word but there is a lot of depth in it.
“Want to talk?” I ask her.
She sighs. “My room.”
“What about it?”
“It’s just that – I have a room for myself here. It is like my personal space, an oasis for me. It just struck me that once I get married, I will never get a room for myself.”
I frown. “I am thinking it is not about the room.”
She chuckles. “No, not a room exactly. While I love spending quality time with you and Mom, I always look forward to retiring to my personal space at the end of the day. I love my solitude. Once I get married, I feel the moments of solitude will be less. There will be no more ‘just me’ moments, I guess.” She casually waves her hand. “Ignore the ramblings of a nervous bride-to-be. It is probably last minute jitters.”
“Hmmm. The way I see it, you carry your personal room within you.”
She looks at me with a frown.
“I meant to say that there is nothing wrong with seeking moments of solitude every now and then. I am sure Rishab will understand when you say that you need some ‘me-time’. Being married doesn’t mean you have to always be together, do everything together and spend every waking moment with each other. It involves giving space to each other to grow, respecting your privacy and honoring the moments of solitude that I am sure both of you will seek in your lifetime.”
She nods thoughtfully. “Thanks pal, that makes me feel so good.”
I smile at her. “Coffee?”
“You will have another round with me?”
“Goes without saying.”
Minutes later, we both sit in companionable silence, sipping our coffees and gazing out as the first rays of the day break out.
I make a mental note that this moment will go down in the list of Most Beautiful Moments I Spent With Buddy.
---@@@---
The guests have started coming in.
I am thankful for the precious moments of solitude and peace that I got to spend with Mehek. We have a large social circle and it shows as people start flocking into the lawn with their entire families.
I am grateful to all these people who have been a big part of my life. Most of these friendships were formed after my marriage with Mehek. There are also those precious childhood friends who have stood by my side through all ups and downs and have gathered today to celebrate my Buddy’s marriage.
Mehek catches me talking to an old friend and rushes towards me. “Excuse us for a minute.” She says to the guest and gently drags me by my hand.
“What happened?” I ask her.
She looks at me, a strange light in her eyes. “She’s ready.”
Two words and they set my heart racing. I stare at her silently. Mehek brings her hand to her mouth trying to rein in her emotions. “Come on.” She whispers to me.
Every step feels heavy. I both want to rush in as well as delay the moment when I will see my Buddy as a bride. Mehek’s powerful grip on my hand makes me feel centered.
This is after all my Buddy. I can do this.
Except, when I see her in her room, dressed in the dark-blue lehenga, adorned with ornaments the way a bride is, looking at me as if she has been seeking me out since ages and smiling at me in relief and sheer happiness that makes her face glow, only one coherent thought appears in my mind.
So this is what it means to be a dad!
My eyes widen as the realization strikes in. I walk slowly towards her, thinking how, at the time of sending her off, did I finally become a dad!? Where was this awesome feeling all these years? Why did I never insist that she call me as Dad??
My eyes well up and I try to smile unsuccessfully. Palak shakes her head and walks towards me, the jingle of her anklets and her bangles lending rhythm to her steps.
Ever so softly and silently she hugs me.
I wrap my hands around her, feeling like my heart would burst with all the love that I feel for this wonderful, wonderful girl. A lifetime of regrets descends upon me as I wish that I had this moment much earlier.
As a Dad to my daughter Palak.
We stand like that while seconds, probably infinity passed by. I can hear the soft sniffles of Mehek as she stands beside us and watches us having this moment.
“I have a confession to make.” Palak says softly, still engulfed in my hold.
“Tell me.”
She straightens herself and looks at me. “You told me to think of you as my Pal. I am sorry I could never consider you as a friend.”
I gulp and nod.
“Because you have always been a Dad to me, never just a pal.” She says the words that almost break my composure and leans in for another hug.
I am too overwhelmed with emotions to say anything, but say something I must. “You will always be my daughter first and foremost. I and Mehek are so, so proud of you. I hope you know how much you have brightened our lives. You will always be ours wherever you go.”
I can’t say anything more. Already I can feel Palak straining to maintain her composure.
But there is something I wish for. “Just once, can you refer to me as Dad?”
“Not just once, but always and forever, Dad. Love you.”
This time I can’t stop the tears from falling. I hastily release Palak after dropping a kiss on her head and wipe my eyes. I look at Mehek who is sobbing openly now. Then I pull in both of my precious girls for a group hug.
From the hall, we can hear drums and beats. Seems like the groom’s party is approaching.
We exchange silly grins.
“Seems your guy is here.” I tell Palak. “Let us give him the reception of his life.” Palak chuckles through her tears. I wink at her. “Take your own time to come down. Make him sweat it out a bit.”
Leaving the bride with her friends, I and Mehek go down to the hall.
And there I dance with unbridled joy, the way a Dad should dance in his daughter’s wedding.