Family

 Let me tell you something.

Families are made of people. People have egos. Egos are self-destructive, as well as harmful to others. When egos clash, it is a nuclear blast. It hurts everyone in proximity. Damage control is the only thing to do, or not. There is no escaping this fact.

Today I screamed at the top of my voice. Shouted till my lungs hurt. At everyone at home.

You came towards me, I looked at you. I still managed to force a smile. So did you, but you did not come close. You distracted yourself in something else. Out of your necessity to stay away from me. And when I stepped out, you didn't stop me. Probably didn't even ask out for me later. 

You still don't speak

It's been two months since your second birthday but you still don't speak. You manage to run the world with help of a few code words and sign language. And a lot of crying.

'Buuuu' is the colour of everything. 'Buyyyy' is the bike ride. An order when accompanied by tears ij those eyes. A request when all is well, of course. And all is well in the morning. Every. Morning.

You are so shy of strangers that you would hug me so hard, your nails dig into my shoulders. Yet when you are the free bird within familiar territory, and I couldn't get my hands on you, and despite my best efforts to get a kiss from you, I can hardly get a pout on your lips. Sometimes even the dreared 'Noooo papa', the ultimate denial. Out of question.

Because you are too busy to spare kisses for your old man. Your legs have a mind of their own. Running so hard on the polished floor as if they are collapsing under you. Seeming to drag away the remaining of all of the ten kgs that is your body. Or dancing so wild I could only stare with a gaping mouth, bleak realisation that the blood line shows.

Or too busy with your Chocy or the Yummieee dance on the phone. I sometimes wonder about the stuff that will keep you busy as you would grow. What can be so important that you will say Noooo to your Babaiii. But I will be honest, I don't believe you will ever grow up. You are my Ichuuu who is so happy with himself and his world that big things are too boring. The little things are your joy and being cute and naughty is your game. I really think that you will always be this. Growing up is not allowed. Not under my watch.

Anyways.. I can always get your attention with Buyyy rides. You on my lap as I drive the bike and start thinking of a good song to sing out loud. Loud enough to make the heads in shop windows and on the kids playing on footpaths turn around, sometimes with a half smile and other times with a glare showing dissapointment in seeing a grown man singing in a ghastly voice without any regard for any decency. And a sigh from your mom if she is sitting at the back.. Not again.. '

You belong on my shoulder

And me, I am your soft and smooth pillow
A cradling pillow, a dancing pillow

You are the wind on the terraces
and the colors of dogs and peacocks

Me, your wingman
pushing you on and pulling you back

We make a good pair
cos' we both need each other

You are the perfect blend of vodka
I like vodka

You are the eyes of laughter
and of joy and innocence

You are the laughter
within my eyes

my joy, my pillow
the shoulder I rest on

"I will miss you"

There have been times dude. Maybe moments, sometimes hours, sometimes even days. At those points in my life, it felt like I would lose you for good. Not that anything would happen to either of us. It's just that I would have let you be taken away from me. No questions asked.

See, so many things need to happen to sustain a beautiful thing. So much suffering to be endured. So many painful words that hold the heart in a fist and do not let go for days and weeks, until the fist beats another heart to death, punching with all the hateful energy it accumulated over all the years. People need to overcome all that. And those same people need to compromise on their egos, even self-respect, over and over again, just so that a bunch of people can become a home and raise a family with love. And even then it doesn't work if hard luck hits.

But so many things indeed happened for us to be here and now, you and me, and all that goes on between and around us. And all that happened, despite my shortcomings, despite what we all are, to make these days of happiness a reality for us.

If I am now able to finish this note, it is only because I somehow consider myself to be a bigger guy than that guy who was willing to let go of his beautiful son because he was not able to deal with some shit. If I am presumptuous about this claim, then I’ll figure out soon enough. Let’s hope I don’t. Having said that, I am trying to finish this piece which I started when I was in that fucked-up state of mind.

Back then, I was not willing to finish and publish this stuff, because the guilt still got to me. I was not willing to see myself in the mirror, or on paper. I mean after all the fuck-ups that I delivered, to have the audacity to write on that situation or even to reflect upon it, while still trying to solve it, just seemed wrong. Did you ever see a junkie brag about his exploits? Also, I was going through a lazy phase, most of the past year. Or two.

Anyways, that guy who was not willing to write this page was an idiot. That guy who was willing to give you up was a confused mess of a human being. That is not me in the now. And so lets talk about the idiot, what was going on in and around him. Before I get cocky though, a tiny reminder that this version of myself was from less than six months back. More like three months back. I think I grew out of it, but that is not yet tested thoroughly, so touch-wood.

I can laugh about it now but back in the heat of those moments, it pretty much felt like fate. There was nothing I could’ve said or done, to really resolve the differences. Nothing I can really do to move the hearts away from conflict and towards a place of harmony. Not even a pretense of harmony. Not saying I was free of blame. But I can only play my part. And trust me I was sincere. I was always trying to resolve issues. People did warn me that my involvement usually had the opposite effect and actually escalated situations, but that is only half-right. And anyways, my intentions were pure enough if my actions were sometimes, well, confused.

But I just wanted people to realise the bigger picture that was so very obvious. True happiness. You know how winning a battle isn’t really worthwhile when it is the one you love who has to lose. Simple things like that. Turns out, it was not that simple.

I can take a beating or two you know. I can take many more for you. I can suffer and trust me, I didn't suffer more on anyone else's account. But sometimes - frankly, more times than you’d think reasonable - I came to feel that I couldn't take it anymore. That enough is fucking enough. You will never know the specifics and you might as well not. Not worth the pain and I’d rather not go through those memories again.

Anyways, it was clear as daylight, in those moments, that I can lose you if it comes to that rather than take one more moment of the fucking bullshit that goes on in contests of ego. Not one more moment. I'd rather lose it all than bend over to the damn madness that I have to endure, just because people think winning is more important than peace.

It was not your fault of course, you were just involved. You were just a gambling weight to be used against me. Or for me. Didn't matter. You didn't matter and that was not cool with me. I was not going to tolerate you being made a pawn in these cheap dramas. The fact that I have to take so much bullshit and disrespect because otherwise I’d lose you was not alright with me.

You should read The Fountainhead sometime. Sooner the better so that you can grow out of it. In that, Howard Roark at one point says, “I can die for you, but I cannot live for you”. He was saying that in response to being emotionally black-mailed by people he cared about. They were asking him to compromise his vision and passion because they wanted him to be safe. Something like that.

Not an exact anology but you get my point. I was not willing to tolerate the bullshit generated by clash of egos after a certain point, even at emotional gunpoint, especially at a gunpoint, even if that meant losing you. Even if that meant not seeing you grow up.

I've given it all my energies and endured as much as I could, but now the line was drawn and crossing it meant that I pull the trigger. That's how much I was pushed. Back against the wall, even a cat swings its paws in one last fit of rage.

But it was just those mad moments mind you, many a scuffles went by with much less of a mental strain, meaning that this was not a one-off. In fact, if a week went by without some sort of an ego clash and heated, spiteful arguments, it felt like a relief. The last drama was less than a month ago and I am already dreaming that this peace will be permanent. Just because I need it to be. The situation basically stinked as recently as monsoons, and we just celebrated my birthday.

Call me weak, lacking will power or just miserable. Or call me cold as some have called me before. I won't contest you, maybe I could’ve been more of a man. Maybe not. A friend once told me that it is not easy to self-analyse oneself. It is probably impossible. What does it matter, I was that guy and that is a fact. 

But it is also a fact that, back then as much as now, nothing else would hurt me more than the thought of not seeing the glow of your face. Not dancing with you again or running around chasing you or fighting with you on the bed. If I can visualize my life without you in it, the image will probably tear me apart for good. Those moments in which I was standing there, taking the stand to let you go, that was pure misery and the tears in my eyes were not enough to account for the pain I had to endure.

Anyways, those days, let us assume, are in the rear-view now. Let us just assume that and I will keep on my toes to ensure it remains so.

But, just imagine the freedom I'd have had if it did come to pass. I mean, not that I want it that way at all, and I would listen to a lot of doom and blues music than it would make sense. But then I'd also have  had a lot more time to actually sit down and listen, eh!

Being a father

You'd like to kiss him, at least touch his cheek and rub on the soft skin. But you can't. It's two in the night and he needs to sleep. More importantly, you are afraid because you know you don't have the capacity to keep up with his energy at this point. You'd rather not kiss him now.

He is fast asleep. He hasn't seen anything yet, or he would be awake too. Maybe you haven't seen enough that you are wide awake.

I know you

The idea of you. It's in my bones.
I know you, I don't need to think.

I know cos, it's in my bones you see.
Not in my experience. Not in my emotions.

I know you from my bones and nothin can influence that.
Not all your nonsense. Not all your tantrums. Not even your anger.

Nothing can hide the love you have for me.
Nothing can change it either.
Not even you could change it if you wanted to.

Cos its in your bones. Its in every DNA of every cell in every bone and joint of your being. Its in your muscles and in your emotions. Your fears and your laughter.

And I know that much if I know anything. I don't need to guess, you know why?
Cos I know it in my bones.

That's my boy

We were playing around. As usual. First in the living room, then the balcony because the kid is getting cranky about going out. And then onto the terrace because if I can appease myself while being of use to him, why not. I like the terrace - it is spacious, and has an aesthetic about it. It is also a convenience that no one is ever around. People are too busy watching Tv and phones. Now, they even have the virus to worry about - all the more reason to drown in the search for the next dopamine hit in the digital world or the virtual world. I will leave this topic here so I can come back and rant about it properly later.

Anyways, we have done enough chilling now and Ichu wants to be back home, with his "Mohmmii..." on an urgent basis.  Yeah, sure - here to serve...

We are back on the bed and we are, as usual, just playin' around, me trying to catch up on the latest Trump tweet while pretending to be reasonably aware about his movements. And, the boy, well, any day now he will actually jump off that makeshift shelf behind the bed and break something. God forbid it to be his mothers' phone. Anything happens to "her precious" and he wound need to be pretty diplomatic to avoid the stick.

I convince him to get down in a more conservative manner for now. Then starts the routine. He is jittery and needs someone to convince him to sleep. Or some other way to drift away. His favorite, right since birth, is mothers' milk. That's where he lays low, the dude. And so we play and he does this routine where he will wander around while slowly drifting towards his mother. Obviously trying to feel the vibes, to check if she is in a good mood. 

She ain't. Not going to be an easy one, this. He tries, first time, gets a small shrug from her and he is back to me and playing around as if nothing happened. A couple more enquiries and his mom is not pleased. She has been watching Mahabharata, the 2011 version, with her headphones on, only since the last hour and needs to get in at least another hour of nail-biting and blank-staring before she can finally convince herself that the day has been worthwhile. She gets verbal now. "Go and play with your dad, he never has any interest in you", but I notice that the kid is actually not crying yet.

Nope. Today he decides to be relaxed about it. After all, I can be an influence when I set out to be one. He takes another round around me, we cuddle around for a fistfight or two, and then he slowly makes his way back to his mom's domain. She looks ready to give it to him this time. Blood will be shed.

Or so it seemed to me before he simply, without any indication whatsoever, slapped across her face with his little hand, and gave nothing away with the expressions. You can be fooled into thinking that it is just a small boy fooling around in the bed if you didn't know him well enough. He gave her one of her own there and it was clear for everyone involved to see. It wasn't a very hard slap, but it was hard enough to be heard at close range and hard enough to declare offense. 

I laughed so hard, and managed to protect the soldier, guided him back into the homeland without any major casualties despite the enemy lines being particularly treacherous. And a job well done. This battle won is enough for tonight. The war will continue but we can bask in our glory for a day or two.