My dear Vasundara
This past year has been, as ever, a year full of experiences that should be captured in amber.
I would capture, the chaos at home every school day morning, as you are unceremoniously bundled off, still bleary eyed and very reluctant. But looking every bit a scholar in the making.
I would treasure every kiss you blew to me from the car as you were driven off to school .
I would save in my mind forever, the time you mastered the Tamil alphabet, after struggling for hours. ON YOUR OWN.
I would always guffaw at the memory of you kicking the air and landing on your rear, ala Chaplin after your Karate sessions.
Indelibly marked are your patience and passion as you painted a picture for three hours, uninterrupted, to be gifted to your father on teacher's day.
...and the feel of your delicate fingers as you rubbed pain balm over my throbbing head.
I would capture and store for posterity the memory of the body ache caused by your breath-taking hugs all night.
I would remember dancing to the steps you choreographed for me, hoping no adult was watching me look like an ostrich in labor.
How can I forget that I grumbled about not having a moments' silence with you around, when truth be told, I miss the constant irritating chatter when you are at school?
And how can I not hold for ever, the time you graduated from picture books to Enid Blyton's Secret Seven? And the nauseatingly pink Barbie novels?
I would always feel the searing pain in my bosom when I think of the times I chided you for a mistake.
I would never understand how, a six year old, can actually say "no" to icecream, especially when half her genes are from an adult who'd fill a bathtub with icecream and soak in it, if she could. Could it be that the saner half dominates ?
I will always smile as I recall the conversations that you have with your friends at the back of the car- the silly things that mean so much to you.
I will remember the tears of sorrow in your eyes, when I kill your king in chess after hours of struggle . And I pray that one day, I will have tears of joy in mine because I lost.
Beyond everything, if I could choose one single moment to capture in amber forever, it would be the time when you, for no reason, walked up to me and said "Amma, I see many aunties around. But you have the kindest face of all".
I know I don't. I know more often than allowed, I frown. Grumble. Complain. I order you about. I blackmail you. I take out on you, my own frustrations.
But it is reassuring to know that those things are passé and what matters is that you know that you make my life complete.
Happy Birthday.
Amma.
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