I love bedtimes.
Both the kids lie in my either arms. It is the time for stories. I find it hard to dig up childhood stories from the folds of my memories. I usually make up stories on the fly. The characters are close in personality to my kids. Some stories have morals. Some are funny. Some are incidents from my own childhood. The kids listen intently with their arms and legs around me. They ask questions, make observations, laugh … The stories are followed by songs. For a long time the songs were the following.
Then, Tunmun protested and asked for unique songs. I resorted to Bollywood hits. Now the lullabies are Kishore Kumar hits.
Somewhere between the songs, the kids doze off. My songs fall off to hums and then silence. The sound of my kids’ even breathing fills the room. As I hold the kids in both my arms waiting for their slumber to deepen before I remove them, I cannot help counting my blessings. This moment fills my heart and soul. The kids’ sleep deepens, but I stay on. It will not be long before they stop needing the stories and the lullabies. They will not want to be cuddled and hugged to sleep. I try to tightly hold on to the sands of time as they slip fast through my fingers.
Hence, I linger on. A few more seconds in these precious moments…