Last years’ calendar in guest room

She was walking like young Bambi. Young fat pudgy legs with dimpled knees, walking unsteadily towards me.

The white chemise that she wore had red and pink embroidery around the neckline. I could not hold back my smile. There is something lovely and amazing about holding babies. When their arms lie on your shoulder and their unsteady necks wobble back and forth. They gurgle , they chuckle and you become lost.
Atleast I do.

The anticipation of the fat baby girl wearing white chemise with embroidery around the neck as she walked on those wobbly legs towards me, made me smile and extend my arms to her. Then something suddenly turned in the air. Like it happens only in dreams and in books. The room turned from cool to chilly in an instant. Every realization flashed in a moment. All those low grade movies where the child turns into a killer made sense as I saw the baby girl in white chemise, now rush to me on steady legs and an evil smile. There was no knife but I felt the cold presence of steel. The anticipation of a sharp slash. I felt the pressure of her left knee. Knees, which now I could never imagine as being cutely dimpled. There is something more macabre about an evil intention behind a beautiful façade.
I felt that pressure on my stomach.

I woke up with a start. It was so real. 4:32 am.

I froze with terror since the knock on the door sounded as real as the feeling of the pressure on my stomach. I contemplated on getting up and pulling the door open to face whatever was behind it. To face it once and for all. Then I told myself-'shut up, u just have a gory mind.'

As always happens with dreams, I could not recall it with total clarity the next morning as I told about it to Kiran and Atanu. Atanu gave me a blank look perhaps not even bothering to listen to my ramblings and Kiran mumbled something distractedly as she directed Jamuna, the baby’s nanny to clean the kitchen racks.

I had again stayed the night over at Kiran’s place. This is so common for me that my toothbrush and some clothes are stationed in Kiran and Atanu's guest room. Kiran has in fact started refering to it as my room. Every 4th day I land up at her place to coo and drool over her baby boy. Little fat boy who has brought out all my long-buried motherly and nurthering instincts.

"These days I do not feel like working", I shot back as I rushed out of her house, again promising myself that from the next day, I shall reach office in time. Another Monday in office.

Another day for me to try and finish pending reports. Another day for Kiran to discover all those new expressions that her baby comes up with (there are numerous of those- sleepy expression, i-luv-u-mamma expression, cranky expression, sulking expression, potty expression…..). Another day for Jamuna, the baby’s nanny to finish this chore and that. She measured the kitchen racks and cut an old calendar into the-measured-neat rectangles, the calendar which used to hang in the guest room.

“Didi, yeh calendar ki baby kitni sweet hai."... Jamuna told Kiran, as she put aside the swanky kitchen scissors. Steel Scissors. “……..Kitni moti…aur iska white, embroidery wala chemise kitnaaa pyaara hai ”. Dekhke lagta hai na, ki photo se nikalkar aapki god (lap) mein aa jayegi?"