Read me to sleep

Now .....

She lay there like a bunch of roses, her cheeks puffed with tears, sleeping like an angel. I saw a tinge of smile on her face - I was probably dreaming, I can't distinguish between the two now. Just as everytime, she involuntarily reached for the huge Mr.Bunny that shares her bed everynight. My eyes darted from one end of the room to the other, till they transfixed on the huge stuff doll obscured by my jacket. I reached for the doll and put it close to her little fingers, before those searching fingers wake the little princess up - ever since she was a couple of months old, Mr.Bunny has been giving her company. On those occasional tiresome nights when Mira and I slump to bed a little early - a piercing cry would wake us up and right in the middle of the night two sleepy souls would be searching for a stuffed white doll in the dull moon-lit room. I stroked a thick lock of hair on her forehead, wondering as always, what she was dreaming about right then.

2 hours before .....

It's amazing how life takes on a humdrum pattern that one never realizes until a moment like this when one misses a train of thought and wonders what he's been thinking. Just as every night, I was heating up milk for her humming the same song I have been singing all day, while she was making all kinds of weird noises with her keyboard. Mira wanted her to learn music over dance - "You can practise music anytime anywhere. It doesn't need anything. Dance needs a whole infrastructure, and I don't want my daughter to experience the pain of giving up something she would grow to love" She knew best coz she was one amazing dancer herself - She was supposed to be there with her, teaching her the first notes of music right now. But things aren't always the way you want them to be isn't it. So, it's just the two of us now. She with her cacophonic company and me with a milk can and a flame. I still haven't got the story for the night ready - Ever since she could distinguish voices, I have been telling her a story every night - each one a variation of the other - it's always about this beautiful princess who finally wins against all odds. Mira would often make fun of me that she doesn't understand a word of what I say - but trust me, she does. The other day, she, in her own childish gibberish, made reference to a story I told her when she was a toddler - you know, with children you would never know - she probably didn't mean a thing. But, with all subjective inference I am entitled to as a dad - I declare, she did remember. Right then, I heard her go "Da .. da .. da ". She was calling out for me. I picked up the glass of milk and reached for the stairs - So, what do we have? A princess in a lost land ... now that's a start.

Now ...

It's well past midnight, I know that I have to go and that sitting and staring at her sleeping is not going to be of any help. I should probably catch some sleep and get things done for the meeting tomorrow. I stared at the door - felt, when I cross that threshold, I would enter a different world devoid of a single reason to live or smile or breathe. I was hoping she would wake up, grab my hand and asked me to sit down and read her to sleep. I suddenly had this urge to cry - don't remember the last time I felt it. Deep down, I knew I was going to see her again tomorrow. But the tears seemed irresistable and were already on their way. Enough! I had to go. I stood up and suddenly felt her hand grab the end of my sweater - there between her tender fingers was a tiny piece of fabric urging me to stay. There probably was the same coyish expression on her face that she has whenever I threaten to leave without telling her the story for the night. I picked up the book and opened a random page and stared at it - I couldn't see a word as the streaming tears made the whole page blurred. "Once upon a time, there was this little cute princess lost in a wonderland .... "

1 hour ago...

It wasn't worth it - it was a damned lizard and that wasn't going to do any harm. She shrieked, jumped out of her bed and rushed down the stairs. I just got out of the kitchen to watch her tumble down the steps - it all seemed to happen so slowly. I could see her tender foot miss the step by just a little, see her lose balance and reach for the wall, slip and fall from one step to the other. Soon, she stopped crying and I could see her closed eyes under a film of blood and right amidst her thick locks was a huge gash, reaching till her skull and spitting blood out with a vengeance.

Now ...

"... but our little princess was a very smart girl. She gave the beast a cold stare and gave it a tight slap .... " .. during the momentary pause between the words, I realised that the buzz that accompanied us in the hospital room had stopped and at a distance, a green spiking graph had given up its flight and was making a thin straight line on the screen. I put the book down and held the hand of my angel - she hadn't spoken a word, hadn't called me dad yet, hadn't cried before the huge doors of her school on her first day out, hadn't given her million-dollar smile in those school snaps, hadn't walked with me in the park talking of guys in 3rd grade who are interested in her, hadn't confessed her little mistakes, hadn't talked about crushes, about falling in love - hadn't left my shirt wet as she took someone's hand and walked away, never came back with a little one as sweet as her before I forgot she was like that one day. Not a word and she's left me already.

I held on to the dead meat, hoping to breathe some life into it and get my daughter back again. There was still the vague smile on her face - daddy did read her to sleep that night.