Miracle

When I was seventeen, a miracle happened in my life. Something unexpectedly expected. My aunt gave birth to her second son. One might wonder what might be so miraculous about it, considering the fact that I am the eldest in my family and have lots of younger cousins. Since I was having my vacations and since we were in a joint family system then, I spent most of my time looking after him, the one I call my ‘aniyankuttan’ or ‘aniyan’ in short, meaning little brother. I knew the moment I saw him, there was something special between us, something subtle, but present. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t disgusted by baby poop or barfs or anything. I would clean up after him without a grimace. This came as a shock to all, especially since I get extremely queasy when it comes to such things. I would put him to sleep and often he would be sleeping with me in my arms at night till my aunt came and got him. It was very weird at first when he developed affection to my breast, always turning towards them when in my arms. And it still does. He spends most of his holidays with me when I am home and still sleeps in my arms. One of his hands will always be resting on my breast.

Everything between us is magical. The first song that I sang to him was no actual lullaby. I remember how some of the lines from Darius’s Colorblind came to me. I just began humming from the middle, ‘Feeling fine, sublime, when that smile of yours creeps into my mind……. You make me colorblind’. It was exactly how I felt. Often it wasn’t necessary that he even cried for something, I would just know.

Then, my aunt moved away to another part of the city. Naturally, it was heartbreaking to see my little one break away from the herd at six months. I would wait almost clawing the walls with impatience for the weekend to come, so that I can rush to him. Sometimes, my heart would beat so fast and heavy that I know he wants to see me. When the time comes for me to leave him, he usually hides something of mine, my purse, umbrella or just hang on to my dress and wail. I can never forget those wails. It was as if they made my heart stop.

I just know when his heart beats for me, even in my sleep. There was an incident that made everyone realize that our connection was very strong. I had taken a very strong analgesic for my head ache once. Afraid that it wouldn’t be enough, I took another. This made me sleep through better part of the day and through the night. My parents were worried I would have to be taken to hospital. The next morning, according to my aunt, he just sat up on the bed, jumped out and began to change his dress. When asked why, he said that I wasn’t well and he wanted to come and see me. He didn’t know about the pain killers. There is no answer to why we love each other like this. We just do.

The funniest part is, I get blamed for all the naughtiness in him, through these five years. His famous excuse is, ‘Sruthi chechi does it, why can’t I?’. Somehow, I am fine with it. I know it is just not the naughty things I taught him. Even when he could barely understand English, I would look right into his eyes and say, ‘I love you’. One day, while being cuddled by his mother, he looked at her and said those words. (Yes, yes, I do admit that it is not the only thing he learnt from me. The other day he called me a stupid. I asked him where he learnt it from. You can guess his answer. Also, sometimes he copies my ‘attitude responses’!).

Or the time he asked me why I always take his photos and why his picture is the wallpaper in my mobile phone. I said the truth that the only reason I wanted a camera on my phone was to take his photos. He asked me if I loved him that much, I said yes. He looked at me like he was going to choke and silently climbed onto me and held me tight. I would never forget that look on his face then. He expects me to be there for him, even when he is in a very bad mood, crying and wailing and kicking me, yelling at me to go away (those are the times when I remind myself his nails ought to be trimmed, my whole face would be scratched); I would calmly tell him alright and prepare to leave. But somehow, I never get around to the door. He would just pull me near him and cry in my arms. I know whatever he is, whatever he becomes; I will contribute a major part of it.

He has taught me a lot and still does. He has taught me what it takes to raise a child, to control your temper, and especially that yelling never works with children (I often punish him with silence. Deafening silence.). He has taught me that love is not only about cuddling and laughing together, but also about standing in front of the class teacher while she says how naughty he has been and how he is not paying any attention in class and then try to make him read the bed time story word by word till he screams. It is also about finding out that he draws better than he reads or that instead of squashing a flower like most naughty children do (he is naughty), he would admire its beauty. It is also about holding him tight, getting soaked by the waves on the beach (since he wants to enjoy the most even though he is scared of the waves) and realizing that the only reason he is enjoying is because he trusts me and that the only reason I am calculating the effect of each oncoming wave is because I am responsible for him. It is also about holding him up so he can see the snakes in the cages better and standing in front of each cage till he gets answers to all his questions, and my arm hurts but the pain just vanishes when he laughs with delight. It is also about not being able to take a bath without him banging on the door asking me to finish soon and waiting outside till I do. It is also about the adamant stand that at five years old he won’t eat by himself if I am there, I have to feed him. It is also about realizing that he never forgot the first lullaby I sang to him (I still sing Colorblind at times to him.). Most of all, it is about love. Unconditional and pure love. The love that I see on his face when he sees me. The love that he understood when I said that I love him, long before he properly understood either English or Malayalam. Love that I know will not die.

And that love, for me is a miracle.