4/04/2016

Letter to Daughter XIII


Darling Chinks,

Not knowing ever, when you would chance upon this lot of letters, I persist. You could then call me Mad-Momie. While the last months have been about braving fears – of flights, sea, dogs – however remotely, I could not but laugh,when, in retrospect, these felt so minuscule to doing something remarkable – maybe paint a canvas of familiar melodies, or decide to land on the moon, or understand the relativity of time. But Momie can’t do either. Momie is lethargic and frankly, she doesn’t care.

But C, I will share something with you, which I dare not tell anyone else. I have been dreaming of petting a zebra. Yes, yes, a living zebra, black and white stripes. Almost deciding that it will have to be safely smuggled and kept in our ‘lazy room’, we have to bring out our X-Box from there. Monochrome – that is what a zebra is called. You know what I want to do? I want us to do, rather?

On rainy mornings when your school and my big school have given us a ‘surprise-rainy-day holiday’, we will cook khichdi. No sweetheart, that’s not the entire plan. Now, in the zebra’s portion, wait what do we call him? Tiger is good? Let’s stay with Tiger for now. No errors if you spell it Tyger. So, what we will do is crush a couple of Calpols on Tig’s portion of food, so that by the time we are done with our bath, he is deep asleep. And then :)

C, then we will unlock our colours. Yes, honey, you can also use my acrylics that you have been dying to use, and cupping your tiny palm in my large one, we will, together brush a shade of lemon yellow on one of Tig’s white stripes. Tucks will be barking if he sees it, so we have to keep him in your room for a while. Once the yellow stripe is done, we will once again, hand in hand, colour another white strip with a dash of chrome blue. And the next with viridian green.

And then our hands will colour our own strokes. Yours will be confident, mine will be a little hesitant. But one long stroke, in sync with Tig’s breathing, and we will be back to ourselves. You will choose vermillion and I will finish the tail with chrome green. Are you with me in this, C? Momie wishes to do such things with you. When Tig wakes up, he can have a good look at the mirror, and you can whisper into his ears that, “Momie and I went to bye you nu dress!” What do you think Tig, the zebra will do? His other side will remain monochrome of course. May be he will give us both a kick. But we shall face it, ok? It wouldn’t be greater than the kick when we polka-dotted one of Tig’s black stripes with white, right?

You must also promise Tig that on our next rainy-day holiday, we will soap off our enterprise, and he will be back to his original self again. Till then, he can enjoy some colours, and we can enjoy some colouring. Yet, what fun is colouring, without you? Hence, when you read this letter, if, when and whether I am around or not, do rekindle the idea once more. I assure you, love, it is a sight! You can have a prop to diminish the law of ‘staying true to one’s colours.’

Let’s bring home a zebra, shall we? Or will it be crossing the limits? Quote Mad-Momie and say, “I give a damn! How boring is it to have those black and white zebra crossings! We are only trying to experiment.” I have a feeling we will find faithful friends helping us along. Who does not want to cross the line once in a while? We too/two will, in boats of brushes and cans of colours.

To our zebra called Tyger, many cheers, C!
Love and kissies,
Mad-Momie.

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