To the Bakery

This is an introduction to another character in this story. I don't know her yet, but I'm waiting to find out. I think I like her. I'm sure you weren't expecting this after Destination Parenthood. I wasn't either!

To the Bakery!

I clear out the kitchen counter to make room for my new machine. But before I place it ever-so-gently on the counter, I give it a tight hug and a slight peck on its shiny steel surface where it reads KichenAid. Aah! No better words have ever been written! 'Imagine what beauties we will bake together, my pretty!' I am busy relishing this moment when a flash of white light blinds me.

‘If you’d only ever hold me so close! Now I’m a bit worried about gifting you this!’ Mayank says smilingly and then proceeds to click a dozen more photos of me and my beloved. I unabashedly display my affection for my new love and happily pose away.

‘I think you should give it a name. And a gender too. Please let it not be a man! And don’t call it Shahrukh, or it’s going right back to the store!’

‘Damn, that was my first option: SRK 2012.’ I raise my eyebrows and pout my lips in plea and he bends forward and pretends to put my beloved back in its terrible box and take it away. ‘Nahiiii,’ I shout dramatically. Just as Mayank prepares his juicy filmy retort, his phone rings. He places the machine back on the counter, pecks me on the cheek and leaves to take the call.

‘Just you and me then, Shahrukh…’ I plonk myself next to my birthday present and begin reading the instruction manual.

Destination Parenthood

Hi, I feel a new story brewing within me but I don't quite know what it is presently. Would you like to join me on this journey till the end? Don't know what will happen next really. I'm writing it as I post. But do keep your feedback coming. And remember, this is FICTION! Here goes section one:

Destination Parenthood.

‘It’s like I have two hearts now. One that belongs to my wife, and the other belongs to her,’ he says as he holds his three-year-old close to him.

I smile vaguely. I must, I suppose or what would he think of me? Haw! A mother to be who has simply no interest in his experience of parenthood? Despicable! I really want to roll my eyes at him but I dare not.

There are so many things I want to say to him: Hey, hello, good for you but I’m not interested. And so what, everyone has a child…what’s so special about you and yours? And finally, I’m just three weeks pregnant and I don’t get any of this. Truth be told, I never wanted this … this child, anyway.

All right, hold the bus. Don’t go all judgemental on me. We thought about it. You know, about letting ‘it’ go, terminat … okay, that’s too harsh a word… but well we discussed it. And I’m not ashamed of that, even though the whole time all I heard was my mum gasping from heaven. We just weren’t ready. I still am not. But here we are, three weeks and an ultrasound later, listening to Gopi chacha’s fatherly adventures. Sigh.

‘The first few months are actually the easiest and the toughest at the same time…’ Rita chachi’s voice phases in and out. The first few months once the baby is here – out – ouch – and here we are three weeks into the pregnancy. I can’t even imagine my life once this baby comes! I’m freaking out. I try to catch Abhishek’s eye and pray that the fake telepathy we claim to have becomes real for just one second. Look at me. Look. At. Me.

His telepathy with the samosa is much stronger, as it turns out. Why am I not surprised? Okay, must find a way to change the topic on my own – I am a confident, strong, independent woman, I say to myself. Go. ‘Aur, chachi, when do you plan to join back work?’ And suddenly, I’ve got more attention than I can handle. Oops.