A Letter To My Daughter

Dearest child,

You’ve been on the planet for nearly three years now. I cherish the mornings that I have spent watching you peacefully sleep, cosily tucked in your bed and surrounded by your furry toys. It seems no less than a miracle to me that while the whole world showers and gulps down breakfast in record time – lest they get defeated in the rat race – you blissfully snore. On waking up, you look at the bright blue morning sky, wide eyed. Every little event intrigues you, my child. The chirping of a bird, the birth of a flower bud, the streaks of an airplane in the sky.

Bathing you and getting you dressed has been one of my favourite rituals. It is amazing how much we talk about, over bubble baths and rubber ducks. You have learnt many a nursery rhymes while I would lather you up in soap, with only your bright twinkling eyes visible! It surprises me that you already have developed an innate sense of fashion. Despite the little arguments we occasionally have, I believe we have been getting along quite well so far.

Getting you to eat something has been a mammoth task, but we mothers have our ways. I trick you into helping me out in the kitchen, and it has worked unfailingly. It gives me immense satisfaction when I see you relishing the scrambled eggs and ‘paranthas’ that you seem so proud to have made yourself.

Our leisurely afternoon siestas, followed by tireless rounds on the swings and slides of the neighbourhood park are special. I am impressed that gigantic slides don’t terrify you anymore. You are my brave girl, and how accomplished it makes you feel when I say that everytime you climb one by yourself. Dinner is proceeded by storytelling. I am quite sure I can churn out more stories than Ruskin Bond himself, since you, my inquisitive child, prod me to go on till I start hearing your soft snores.

We have been the boss of our days, my princess. You and I have had the luxury of prolonged baths, late sleep ins and lazy meals. But it all might have to change a little, if not more, starting tomorrow.
Tomorrow marks the beginning of your school life. Mornings will be more rushed, somewhat like the ones of those running in the rat race. You will be introduced to a life of discipline. My baby, that pink frilled frock that you insist on wearing early in the morning will be replaced with your polka dotted uniform. Tomorrow will be the birth of you as a student, and I wish you continue to find magic in pretty Petunias and chittering of squirrels, even when you are burdened with heavy books on Botony and Zoology. I pray that you learn, imbibe and cherish all that your school offers.

You will recite all those nursery rhymes, and i hope your teacher too, will break into applause even when you forget your lines. You will play in school, but I hope someone waits down the slide for you with open arms. You will have lunch break, and I hope that someone makes sure you don’t waste that last morsel in the tiffin. You will find a lot of friends my darling daughter, but I hope that you always remember the first friendship that you forged.

Love,
Mama