Longing: The Desire to Hold His Hand

"One Bangalore," I blurted out, offering the money to the bus conductor.

"Right now, you are in Bangalore," the conductor muttered, giving me a strange look as he handed the money back.

"Oops, One Erode," I said, feeling embarrassed. The conductor accepted the fare and gave me a thorough once-over.

This was the day I had been eagerly awaiting for the past ten months. My excitement was overpowering, and I couldn't contain myself. I kept checking my watch every minute.

"What time will we reach Erode?" I asked the conductor for the 25th time, testing his patience.

"The arrival time doesn't change just because you keep asking," he replied, slightly annoyed. I grinned at the conductor and began daydreaming about the person I was going to meet during this five-hour journey.

After ten months of anticipation, I was finally going to see him. I had no idea what he looked like.

"Is he thin or fat? Fair or dark? Does he have curly or straight hair?" I pondered, clueless. We had spoken many times, but his responses were always evasive.

"How should I start? Should I greet him with a smile? Or should I go straight for a conversation and offer him a kiss on the forehead?" I rehearsed various scenarios in my head. But my plans were shattered when I actually met him.

There he was, right before my eyes. But his beauty left me speechless. I couldn't utter a single word. He was so incredibly cute that I had never seen like him in my entire life.

♣♣♣

"Erode, Erode," someone tapped my shoulder, bringing me back to reality. I woke up and realized it had all been a dream. I thanked the conductor and hurried to the hospital.

♣♣♣

The nurse at the reception was dozing off.

"Hello, Ramya and Thangaprakash. Which room are they in?" I asked the nurse.

"Go straight and take a left. It's the third room," she replied, half-asleep.

I dashed towards the room, shouting a quick "Thank you" to the nurse.

"Shhh, Silence Please," the duty nurse warned, pointing to a wallpaper featuring a child with its finger on its lips. I smiled at her and rushed inside the room.

The baby was peacefully sleeping in the cradle, and in my excitement, I accidentally threw my slippers aside.

As I approached the cradle, someone tugged at my hair and pulled me towards the exit. It was my aunt.

"Why? Let me see the baby," I pleaded.

"You're one day late. So, you're not supposed to see the baby," she teased, continuing her leg-pulling games. But my eyes remained fixated on the cradle.

"Please, Auntie. Let me have a look," I implored.

Upon seeing the earnestness on my face, she released her grip on my hair. I tried to make another rush towards the baby, but my mother blocked my way.

"What now? Let me see him. I've been waiting for almost 8 hours," I pleaded.

"First, go wash your hands, legs, and face with soap, and then you can approach the baby," my mom instructed.

I hurriedly rushed to the bathroom, washed my face and hands at lightning speed, and headed back towards the baby, hoping no one would stop me this time.

But my uncle intercepted me, asking, "What's your age?"

"Seriously, now? Please, uncle, let me see him," I begged.

"You're grown up. Can't you wash your hands properly?" he chided, pointing at the soap bubbles still lingering on my hands.

"Go and wash them again," he insisted.

I complied, but instead of heading towards the bathroom, I found myself drawn towards the baby. However, my dad quickly grabbed my hand and firmly guided me towards the bathroom, instructing me to wash my hands.

Reluctantly, I went back to the bathroom and washed my hands again, praying to encounter no more obstacles. When I finally approached the cradle, my sister called out, "Make sure you wipe your hands with a towel. We don't want the baby to feel cold."

Impatient to see him, I couldn't waste a second searching for a towel. I hurried over to my mom, quickly wiped my hands on her saree, and made my way towards the baby.

"Kuttyyyyyy," I whispered with excitement.

The baby responded with a gentle wriggle. Everyone in the room shot me a stern look, silently warning me not to disturb the peace. I approached the cradle and gazed at the baby. He lay there, pink and delicate, soundly asleep with his tiny eyes closed.

I reached out my finger, delicately caressing the palm of his tiny hand. To my surprise, he grasped my finger tightly. My heart skipped a beat. What warmth and tenderness! His hands were softer than lotus petals or butterfly wings.I was filled with a deep sense of love and connection. The wait and anticipation had finally paid off, and I knew that this beautiful baby would forever hold a special place in my heart.

I wished I could touch that tiny, pink, soft hand once again...