iMother ;)

I love her, like a mother would, her child. 

Even after 2-3 readings of Stephenie Meyer’s The Host, the concept of maternal love that engulfs a complete stranger for another complete stranger was... let’s just say it was strange to me. Of course, as a 16 year old, obviously I wouldn’t understand. I would know the other end of it, the love of a child for his or her mother. But mother to child...? I know that it is that kind of love where the usage of the word “magnitude” itself would be derogatory to the bond. The depth of the love is unfathomable...

And with that mentality, AishU was travelling to another city, to meet a few people very very close to her. Like I said, I’m a 16 year old. My mother was extremely worried about my safety... In the very beginning, the worries were more general: AishU, make sure you know who is picking you up, keep their cell phone numbers with you, if there’s any issue, you know whom to call, etc, etc, etc... Justified. Then came the more primal, more human worries... Don’t talk to strangers, don’t get too familiar with anyone, all of that.

They say man is a social animal... I agree. I think the ‘social’ trait was hammered into me by God way more than it was hammered into others, in as much as, I just can’t keep quiet, and listen to music on a 12 hour train journey. In fact, not talking is closest to impossible for me! xD

Add to it, the people in my compartment: Two aunties, three kids... AishU. Two aunties. Three kids. Don’t talk. What the HELL! They just didn’t go together. J

The kid I first set my eyes upon... Her eyes the colour of night, her skin the colour of milk, and her beautiful curls the most beautiful brown I’ve ever seen... She’s beautiful because I love her, and not the other way round... She’s beautiful because I love her. I couldn’t get my eyes off her, and I couldn’t stop smiling, as I watched her play, give flying kisses, and blink shyly... I’ve never had the urge to look at anyone the way I did want to look at this baby. The best part is that the urge didn’t seem wrong. It seemed to come from every cell inside of me. I wanted to hold her, that Angel. I wanted to hold her just to feel that this was real, she was real. And when she smiled at me, the heavens above had conspired to make me happy. When she played with me, like there was nothing else I wanted from life. And when I held her, I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve that contentment. It was exactly what my dad has warned me against: don’t get too familiar. And yet, I did. I’d broken every barrier and fallen in love with this Angel. I cared for her from that instant like I  knew her all my life.

It is extremely hard for me to fall asleep in trains, especially because of all the shaking and the speed... I’d tired myself out that day so that I could sleep in the train. And yet, when I saw this two and a half year old, I felt all my energy return to every part of me. Only when she fell asleep did I actually feel the first sparks of worry, as I’d realised that I was so energised and refreshed just by playing with her and holding her that I wouldn’t have been able to sleep... And when I lay down that night, I knew I wouldn’t sleep... It wasn’t the journey ahead that occupied my mind, but thoughts of this little girl sleeping in the berth opposite to mine. I was worried... worried more for her. I hoped that she’d sleep well, wake up fully charged for whatever she was to do that next day... I hoped she’d get the milk she was so craving for in the evening...

And I did fall asleep. I slept while listening to her rhythmic breath. I felt like there couldn’t be a more beautiful sound than that. In that minute, which I’ll hold dear to me for Eternity, I understood, in the truest sense, what 

music is. Its this baby’s breath...

And the next morning when I woke up, my eyes ached for her sight. And I was blessed. She was right there, in the berth opposite to me. A wave of relief washed over me. Just that she was safe, although there wasn’t any need to be worried, made me elated. Happy. Out of the world...

When she woke up, I said, “Good Morning!” with the hugest ever smile on my face, and every bit of me meant it. When I asked her whether she slept well, every fibre of me was concerned. If only they could feel the warmth of my concern, they’d be baking.

So here I was, with concern emanating from me for an absolute stranger... It wasn’t ‘this’ baby. MY baby. Not in the possessive sense, but in as much as... Love.

This wasn’t some love where one feels guilty, gets hurt, expects... It was pure, ethereal, blessed. It wasn’t where I could feel the pain of separation, because the fact that we met in the first place made me feel contented.

When we got off the train, her mother asked me to hold her for a while. And no one on earth, no one could’ve ever felt happier. More honoured. With her in my arms, I felt safe. I felt like I’d let go of her, only if I knew for sure, every atom in the Universe promised to me that they’d take care of her. Bless her.

And there I  understood... That was my version of maternal love. The love I’d developed for this Angel, this Child of God... Clean and deep...

I love her, like a mother would, her child. J