A Maximus Story

Even when in the tiniest of sizes, daughters, or children in general have a sense of obhimaan. With an attack of chicken pox and right after, a travel to Dibrugarh, I have been away from C for a considerable amount of time. So, it is but natural that she is answering me in monosyllables when I call her. "How are you, C?"

"No." Whatever that meant! "Did you disturb Naani?" Silence. "Chinkuplum, answer sweetheart!"

"Yes! I keep." Bang went the phone you would think, but it did not. "Momie is coming home in sometime, love."

"OK." This time the phone went down. I realized I must tell her a fabulous story before she is really upset about this distance. That's the thing with children, or everyone. Either they scream, or they go silent. I rather have them chirpy than cranky. So I pulled up my socks and got ready to deliver a story:

Once upon a time, there was a hairy, golden, puppy called Max. He was carefully chosen by his human parents. He had eyes that one could speak to, something from which one would have difficulty to remove contact. You know, he was so lovable, so lovable that he limped. His run towards you would melt your heart. From puppy, he grew up to be a doggy, royal and furry. And one day, even he became a parent to not one, but three little golden woolballs. Two playful sons and one pretty daughter. But grandparents' house could not have them all, so a son and the daughter were sent off to another dear grandparent. Max, was left with one son, Alvin. Even more golden, and now taller than Papa Max, he would be happiest when he met his brother, Snowy, each morning at the nearby nursery of their human-grandparents. Sadly, they lost their sister a couple of weeks back.

With Papa Max limping and not quite able to catch up with Alvin and Snowy's race for a swim in the green pond, reflecting the green around, they know he is around, their Papa Max, should one happen to miscalculate a stroke in the water. Them playing together feels like a ride over a carpet of clouds, except that the carpet is green, with symmetrically arranged pots flushing colours of pink, and hot pink, red and purple, white, and all of those that a colour pencil box may not be able to hold. Sometimes Snowy would topple off a pot in excitement, and the rest would look like a pack of cards being shuffled. Alvin would chase him in a race of who-gets-to-human Granny-first, and they would somehow make it at the right time. Granny would love, cuddle and play with them and finally come to Papa Max, who rests with his new friend. Does Papa Max feel bad that his human-Momie loves him after sometime? Does Snowy feel bad that Alvin gets more time with Papa Max?

You know, the other day, when I was leaving Max behind, he told me with his papa-puppy eyes, distance doesn't matter. He relishes that Alvin and Snowy get the first Granny-touch. He relishes that when I call out to him, Alvin jumps at me for a pat. I learnt a lesson from Max. Miles dissolve, time does not count, even when your near one isn't exactly near. In 'good english', we call it reaching a 'Maximus Love'. But for you, my love, let me just tell you, even when Papa Max isn't around Snowy, he has him as much in his heart as Alvin, next to him. 

You see love, sometimes when Momie isn't around, you have to understand she is right there with you in your heart chamber, about which she taught you where it resides. You also have her in your walls, where we have both sketched clouds and Jerry jumping from the moon! You have her in such letters which you do not understand and collect in your tin-box. You have her with you in all the stories she has ever told you, and the friends you have made in Cheek, Chin, Jiraaf and the rest. You are her Maximus, love.

Even though I would count yesterday, the 26th of March, 2016, as a victory day for myself, when I made amazing friends with the awesome threesome, and did away with a little bit of fear of dogs that I harbour, I will not shy away from confessing that I am highly concerned about how C is going to react to my return, and respond to this story. I know she missed me as much as I am missing Max right now. But I dare not tell her that, even as I tell her "I missed you maximum, baby!" and put her to sleep in my arms; I think of Max's eyes, following me...