“Table for four.”
My son and I smiled meaningfully at each other as my
daughter took charge of conquering a table in the ever-congested “Pasta House”.
The elegant pearl droplets dangling from her ears swayed furiously as she
vehemently shook her pretty head at the poor manager’s justifications. My
husband muttered sheepishly that he had forgotten to make a reservation in
advance. The obstinate look in my daughter’s eyes and her trembling lips sent
out a warning signal that if today, of all the days, we weren’t privileged
enough to have her favourite table by her favourite window with her favourite
view, we wouldn’t hear the end of it till her next birthday.
God must have really sensed the pressure I was under, as in
the next five minutes we miraculously managed to covet our destination. My
daughter beamed contentedly and my son purposefully reached out for the menu.
This restaurant was a common favourite of ours and for as long as I could
remember, a birthday in the family was incomplete without a meal here. We always
spent ten intensive minutes arguing over a pre-decided menu and then ultimately
settled for the standard dishes.
As we were contemplating on the dessert, a loud exclamation
from the other end of the room diverted our attention. The children silently
groaned as a voluptuous woman made a beeline for our table. I tried to maintain
a pleasantly surprised expression as she approached us.
“Rinku! How nice to see you!” I lied politely as the woman
enveloped me in a huge hug and then targeted my husband, who for once, looked
petrified.
“What an amazing co-incidence, Vandana!” she said loudly,
and continued, “We were just leaving when I saw you! After soooo long, soooo
many years, missed you sooooo much, looking soooo lovely!”
As I tried to reply, she paused for a breath and continued,
“Last time we met, Raghav was sooooo small! I still remember that he had scored
badly in the math paper and I had tried to ask him his marks but he wouldn’t
tell me! What fond memories! ”, she said looking at my son with what she
considered an endearing expression.
I tried to put in a word yet again but by then she had fixed
her eyes on my daughter. “Avantika! So bee-you-tiful! Your teeth have really
come in line after those braces I had recommended”, she said proudly.
She paused again but by now I decided to keep quiet with the
intention of wrapping up this conversation fast. She obviously didn’t get the
hint and continued.
“I must say”, clucked Rinku animatedly, “Raghav has got your
eyes Vandu, and Sameer’s smile! So much like the two of you” She then glanced at my daughter and smiled
but didn’t speak further.
My husband and I involuntarily exchanged glances and looked
at our daughter. In a single second, the enthusiasm that had flooded her face
had ebbed away and the familiar light that had sparkled in her eyes had died a
little. She tried to maintain a casual expression as her nimble fingers played
with the tissue paper and her eyes determinedly looked at the empty glass on
the table.
It was then that my husband, generally an introvert, spoke
calmly, “That is absolutely true”, he said steadily and continued, “My son is a
mirror image of us and my daughter— my daughter is a reflection of who we are.”
The quiet pride in his voice shone in his eyes as he looked defiantly at Rinku,
who for once, didn’t know what to say. My daughter had looked up when he had
spoken and I blinked back my tears as I saw that sparkle surge back into her
pretty eyes. Her smile seeped into her cheeks as she subconsciously
straightened a little and beamed at her father.
Rinku seemed to take the cue and after some effusive
greetings, excused herself. As we watched her leave, my husband commented
wryly, “I pity her new neighbours after we shifted. I’m really considering
writing to them advising them to move out as fast possible.”
We indulged in a
hearty laugh at this suggestion. My daughter had now slowly relaxed back
against her cushioned seat. When she had a tiff with her brother over the
dessert, I could assess that she was fine and when she started dishing out her
usual tantrums, I knew that my princess was back to normal. Throughout the
dinner, there was a certain happiness diffused over her face.
That day, on my daughter’s birthday, that sparkle that lit
her eyes reminded me yet again that one of the best decisions my husband and I
had ever made was to welcome her into our home, our family and our lives by
bringing her from the adoption home on this very day, twenty-one years ago.
Yes, she is not a blood relation, but every drop of blood in
me thanks God every moment for giving me the privilege to call her my daughter.
