Mommy, Mommy, Look What She Can Do!

"Hi!  Girl's night party 6:00PM," I said.

"Yes Ma'am.  May I get your name please?"

"Ankita.  Ankita Sharma" I said in response.

"Party of six?  Your friends are all here.  Right this way ma'am" muttered the pretty receptionist with the fake lashes, checking off my name in the guest list.

I looked around appreciatively at the drybar's elegant, understated, yet sophisticated decor.  
"Ankita, you absolutely have to try the drybar.  It's the in-thing" T had gushed over the phone.  I had heard about this new lifestyle concept that touted - 'No Cuts, No Colors, Just Blow outs', as their tagline and had been dying to try one. But life always intervened.  If it was not Akshar's wheezing, it was Aashna's teething or Rahul's boys' poker night.  

I had made excuses to wiggle my way out of social gatherings, happy hours and tea times with my friends.  Slowly I found myself drifting away from them and the frivolous pursuits that we once shared; the moments that made me feel like a young, beautiful, successful woman and not just Rahul's wife or Aashna's mom.  But enough is enough, this evening will be the turning point and this girl's night out was just what the doctor ordered for me.

Snuffing out a faint flicker of guilt rather ruthlessly I followed the girl, my heels clicking smartly on the tiled walkway.  "I deserved a simple evening out in the company of smart girl friends; a night away from kids' homework, spilt milk and tantrums at the dinner table.  Besides, it would be an eye-opening experience for Rahul to have to deal with the kids for an evening"

"Thank you!"  I smiled a tad too brightly at the girl before turning around to be engulfed by five pairs of arms.  

"Yeah, she made it M!  I win; pass on the twenty bucks" K sang in glee.  

I smiled as I settled in.  “God!  How I missed this crazy bunch.”

The evening shimmered as we bit into delicious hors d'oeuvres and sipped mimosa served in sparkling crystal flutes while the stylists massaged and washed the day’s tension and grime from our hair at the shampoo bowl. Conversation flowed like the soft music that engulfed the space.  Inch by inch I relaxed and eased into the chatter and comfort of this cozy girls’ group.  

Suddenly a  rather off key preschool song - “Each of us is a flower, growing in the garden…” in Akshar’s lispy voice rang through. It was our home number.   

Smiling apologetically and blushing with pride at the gasps and exclamations of “Aww! How sweet!” that issued from my friends, I spoke into my phone, a hushed “Hello.“  And my mind speculated, "It must be Rahul.  Maybe he is sorry about this morning's incident and is ready to apologize."

But there was no response.  I shrugged as I set the phone on vibrate before dropping it off in my purse.  “If his ego did not permit him to talk, then why do I have to bother?”  I mused, briefly reflecting on the irritated and strained interchange that we exchanged this morning.  

Come to think of it, this has become the theme of our marriage in recent time.  I squared my shoulders and resolving to enjoy the next couple of hours to the fullest, I returned back to my cushy leather chair and the girls that offered me the comfort of heart-to-heart talk and unconditional acceptance.

************

It was close to nine, when I slipped behind the wheel, and buckled up. A fabulous feeling of heavenly well being flooded my limbs and a pleasant euphoria suffused my brain, as I checked my cell.  

“What the… 38 missed calls in ten minutes!  All of them from home.  How come? What could have happened?”  

Cold dread coiled in the pit of my stomach and guilt squeezed the heart in my chest with its iron fingers as I hit the speed dial and backed the car out simultaneously.  
“The line’s busy!  Who could they be talking to?”  Myriad situations and emergencies flashed by in a quick succession in my mind’s eye.  
“Was it Aashna?  Did she fall off the high chair while Rahul’s back was turned?  Could it be Akshar succumbing to another painful bout of wheezing?  Darn it! I should have insisted that he keep his layers of clothing on this morning.  The weather was definitely turning chilly.”

I cursed silently the slow-poke Toyota in front of me, as I switched lanes and dialed Rahul’s phone only to hear it ring out.  
“Where are you Rahul!” I exclaimed out loud to the steering wheel even as another chilling thought threatened to squeeze out the air from my lungs 
“What if it is Rahul!  Did something happen to him?  Oh God!  Please no.  I did not mean any of the harsh words I threw at him this morning.  I cannot imagine a life without him”  
My heart rate raced in time to the speedometer of my car as I floored the gas pedal all the way home.

I let myself in fumbling with my keys at the door in an attempt to get the key in the lock.  Dropping my bag on the table and kicking off my pumps, I made my way through the dark house towards the master bedroom, the only source of light at the end of the dark hallway, walking slowly, unsure of what I awaited me.

         

I paused and drew in a deep breath before stepping into the bedroom, and what do I see?  
Sprawled rather inelegantly on the recliner at the foot of the bed was Rahul, fast asleep, with his socks on, tie undone and his glasses askew on his sharp nose; while his gentle snores caused the children’s book balanced on his chest to rise and fall in tune to his breathing.  Tears of joy and relief clouded my vision.  A more beautiful sight had never met my eyes till date.

Suddenly a shrill and excited “Mommy you are home!  You have to see what I taught Ashu” filled my ears.  
My five year old Akshar could not have looked healthier than he did now as he bounded towards me.  
“Mommy, mommy, look what she can do!” He cried pulling me urgently towards his baby sister, two year old Aashna, who sat on her chubby knees holding the phone in her hand.  
To my amazement she squealed a broken “Mama, Ashu call mama” and punched the numbers on the phone with her plump fingers and lo and behold, my phone sang out in response. 

Comprehension dawned as I crumbled to the floor in relief.  Aashna had been calling me all this time, undoubtedly egged on by her doting teacher, Akshar.  I gathered my precious little ones in my lap and watched Rahul stir awake.  

One look at me and he slid down to his knees and enveloped us in his arms, whispering against my hair, “I am an idiot Anks.  I love you, please do not ever leave me and go.”

I snuggled in his broad shoulder sniffling back a tear while my face beamed in happiness.  All it took was a girl’s night out and 38 calls in ten minutes by a toddler to put things in perspective.

 This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.
 (My submission to the WOW initiative)