Hey! Just wait a Sec
Can you? Please... just a little.
I know time would never wait for me, even if I fasted, begged, prayed... anything. But there are moments in my life when I wish it did. Now don’t get me wrong. It isn’t for the fear of spotting the first wrinkles sneaking on to my skin; or for the horror of losing all the hair from my scalp one day. Honestly. It’s just that I want to enjoy childhood. Oh, not mine. Mine is left behind on the slope of that hill. It’s my child’s – my son’s.
I enjoy his childhood for the innocence, trust and love that come with it, all in their purest forms. And often, I drift along with him in his world of fantasies. He takes me off and on, on a roller coaster ride, far away from the mundane world I have marooned into.
His hug engulfs me in a blanket of love. His kiss is so passionately salivated that my cheeks feel damp long after. Yet I find myself going after him, offering them for a few more. He makes me feel oh-so-important and err...knowledgeable. I promptly correct him when he tells me that his friend Kabir likes to read ’Akbar and Beaver’ or that he has ’taked’ two pencils to school, that he fell down and got ‘fever’ or when he asks me, who ‘in-vi-ted’ TV? When he spells ‘white’ as ‘wight’ applying the logic of ‘right’, ‘sight’ and ‘light’, I offer him the clichéd ‘English is a funny language’. He then retorts, ‘You are the funny one. Let me ask my English ma’m tomorrow.’ And that does make me jealous of the ma’m.
A juvenile animal lover that he is, he devotes himself wholly to watching Austin Stevens, Jeff Corwin and Steve Irwin. It’s during these programmes, that sometimes bright ideas come to the little conservationist. I can almost see a bulb glow over his tiny head. ‘Hmmm...I think I can also spit like a spitting cobra.’ Immediately I say, ‘You can...but please don’t....’ And then add as a quick afterthought, ‘...especially when you are around other people.’ He looks quizzically at me, while I sincerely hope he wouldn’t.
Like his favourite heroes, he crouches near bushes to find animals in hiding. Usually he finds frogs, and then he catches them like he were picking up balls. That’s fine by me. In fact, I feel a tinge of pride when my friends admire his unique interest and love for animals. The problem comes in however, when he offers me the catch saying ‘Mama, just hold it so that I catch the other one.’ And although I am not quite a snake person myself, I have offered to be his partner to help him catch any he may find, lest he goes for this dare devil adventure all by himself, trying to be a ‘Hur-pi-tologist.’ With him around, my interests have changed a tad. These days instead of ‘Gobi Manchurian’ and ‘Carrot Cake’, I google ‘reticulated python’ and ‘Black Mamba.’
The animal world never ceases to fascinate him. Once, at twilight, I stopped him short of easing himself on the hedge, when he explained, ’I’m marking my building like the lions.’ Watching a programme about elephants on Animal Planet, he tells me ‘Wow! Look Mama, this elephant has two trunks.’ Quite amazed by this statement, I followed his gaze, only to discover that it was actually a tusker in mast.
Sometimes he gets my creativity oozing with questions like ‘What will happen if a Gigantosaurus sees an Anaconda?’ or that ‘What would we do if a dragon spits fire on us?’ Before answering such questions, I take a long breath, in a bid to answer them as convincingly as I can. His curious face with all hopes pinned on mine, make me put up my best performance. Does that convince him? Sometimes, but mostly not. He dives headlong into his world of fantasies, a seamless fascinating world, while I stand restrained and weighed down by my seasoned thinking. But there are times, I picture myself playing the lead role in an action packed Hollywood flick, all costumed and armoured, protecting my family from the fire spitting dragon. Thanks to him, even my dreams are action packed.
And then he has questions about his birth, like most children his age. When I tell him the tummy tale, he thinks hard for a while and says, ‘Then monkeys, zebras and wildebeests are different.’ Having seen many of the programmes he watches avidly, I sense what is coming. I then quickly trick him, or rather myself, out of the situation. He is also bemused by the idea of death. In his world, people rise soon after their deaths, much like the heroes in his computer games. Of late though, he’s convinced that it is not like sleeping and getting up after a while. Once he asked me if all animals and people grew old and died. When I nodded in the affirmative, he said, a tinge of gloom in his voice, ‘I don’t want to grow old.’ I want to tell him, I wish the same for him.
Some questions are beyond me and some answers, beyond him. But I enjoy him most at this stage. I envy the purity of his mind, his profuse curiosity and unclipped imagination. Seeing the world through his eyes is far more exciting, colourful and fun. At some of his wisecracks, I laugh aloud. At others, I take on the role of his mentor. As time ticks and days go by, I fear that he will leave past his beautiful world of fantasy, of which I have become a distinct part. I fear that he will need me no more, not to answer his questions nor to clear his doubts. He will fly away from my nest only to learn the vices of the world. I fear that he will fill his life with ordinariness... like mine.
That is why, dear time, I beg you to wait. Just a little... if you can.
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