I'm not particularly maternal, though many who have seen me in the company of infants, children, sundry young people, would vouch for my ability to become one of them and yet retain a slender but strong element of control. They know they can have fun with me, but they also know that it's always on my terms... Infact, it is this quality that has helped me in both, the newsroom (with interns) and in the classroom (with my Journalism students).
I'm quiet skilled at changing diapers and many pre-teens have benefited from my relationship advice (eg: If he can't deal with your pimples, he doesn't deserve the dimples!). I have always felt protective about young people... They are so vulnerable, one emotional scar is all it takes to turn them into conniving, evil adults! Even at 30 (OK... OK... 29!), many would agree when I say that I have retained my innocence. It is this innocence that makes me look for innocence or its remnants in everyone... cops who ask me to pull over, hoping to make a quick buck from a lady driver, faces hidden behind a thick veneer of make-up in the bylanes of Kamathipura, the sweet-talking political party spokesman, the journalist who once tried to steal my story... I believe... If you dig deep, somewhere we have all retained a part of our innocence, our hearts are horcruxes and our innocence is the last vestige of our fast fading soul...
But one often forgets that it is this innocence that nourishes the depleting soul, it is what keeps us young... it keeps us alive... One innocent remark, a twinkle in the toddler next door's eye, the toothless smile of the old lady selling Oranges on the train... They all have a therapeutic quality... Much like love! Yes... When I'm vulnerable, I allow myself to become... just for a fleeting instant... a helpless romantic!
And on one such occasion, I was caught off-guard by the most romantic question in the world...
"Deborah... Will you bear my child?", he asked me with an unabashed and earnest sincerity...
"Why darling?", I asked... fighting back mutinous tears that stained my cheeks with kohl...
"Deb, you know I can't adopt a girl child as it is against the law for a single man to do so in this country", replied Harrish. "... and I wanna be a father!", he continued in a heartbreakingly measured, calm voice...
"I can hire a surrogate... and I was checking out this website where everything is perfectly legal. Married women from economically backward families are artificially inseminated after getting their approval and also the approval of their families. They are then looked after and given nutritious food during the course of their pregnancy and paid for their services once they deliver the baby. They give a written undertaking relinquishing their right to the child and since I will be the biological father, the baby is legally mine...", he said... hope brimming from the corner of his mouth contorted in the most beautiful mix of pain, hope, fear, happiness and love...
Excited at getting my full attention, he continued... "But Deb, then I thought... why can't I have a baby with you?"
"Hmmm... Let's see Harrish... with your dimples and my wit, we do have a world beating combination... If you father my kids, I can rest assured that they will be sexy little devils, and you can breathe easy as they will be blessed with my linguistic skills!", I said.
We both relished the delicious idea for the one beautiful moment before reality slammed it to bits...
"Harry bunny," I said, "I have two spinal injuries... so bearing babies is a bad idea... But you know what... I'll sign whatever documents required to become the legal mother of your children!"
The optimistic little muffin that Harrish is, this instantly perked him up and he was back to his quirky self, "Matlab... Tu sach me mere bachche ki Maa banegi?"
"Haan... Harrish Iyer... Main tere bachche ki Maa ban-ne ko taiyyar hoon!"
And just like that... we sealed a deal held most sacred in all religions across the world...
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