Spice of Life: Twin joy, lots of wishes and hope for the world

Adorable twin girls, 10 pairs of perfect twinkling toes, two pairs of tiny curled up fists with their rose-tinted nails, their soft round faces with almond eyes screwed up against the sharp light of the ward, they arrived bawling their little hearts out and in that very instant, melted ours.

I was getting counsel from all quarters, family and friends who were recent grandmothers and also the veterans. How long my daughter would need me in Mumbai once the babies were born, whether massages are kosher any longer or not, how to ensure the infant’s routine, when to give a bath, but the best was this delivered with a stoic, straight face from one who is yet to be one, “Pallavi, remember, you are going there to become a Nani (maternal grandma), not a nanny.”

I was getting counsel from all quarters, family and friends who were recent grandmothers and also the veterans. How long my daughter would need me in Mumbai once the babies were born, whether massages are kosher any longer or not, how to ensure the infant’s routine, and when to give a bath. ((Representative Image/Pexels))

Anyway here I am, frankly doing both jobs much against the last piece of advice but how can one possibly not!

Adorable twin girls, 10 pairs of perfect twinkling toes, two pairs of tiny curled up fists with their satiny rose tinted nails shaped as if by a manicurist in the womb, their soft round faces with almond eyes screwed up against the sharp light of the ward, they arrived bawling their little hearts out and in that very instant, melted ours.

My son-in-law and I had tears streaming unashamedly down our cheeks as we held the little miracles in our arms and just gazed at them in wonder.

By and by we are trying to understand their needs and behaviour patterns but nothing is going as planned, so much for all the books on twins my daughter devoured during her confinement. No tandem feeding, no possibility of the routine she was hell bent on achieving as soon as possible and obviously no sleep for any of us but no one’s complaining.

When I look at the little minxes, peacefully replete and drowsy in their cots like two perfectly curated dolls, I get frightened sometimes. Supremely happy and grateful to the Almighty for these exquisite gifts he has bestowed on us, I am worrying about the world they will wake up to and recognise as theirs.

I wish it could be different.

I wish I never need to teach them the meaning of hatred, strife, power, war, inequality, selfishness, jealousy, and anger.

I wish they learn to see only good in people and don’t bear any prejudices.

I wish for them to sail through life without worry or any burden or danger.

I have this absurd desire to keep them hidden away so they are never hurt or unhappy.

I want to share with them the wonder of our skies studded with millions of stars, the green, lush woods, peacefully grazing animals, heavily laden fruit trees, the blue green waters of the seas lapping at the shores and the marvel that is our bountiful and beautiful Earth.

I want to read all the books I read as a child and many more to them.

I want to protect them forever but I know better.

In time they will step out into the world, stumble, fail, love, face heartbreak, learn, make mistakes, cry and also rejoice. I hope in all this they stay stable and true, work hard and attempt to make the world a better place.

Meanwhile, my cup runneth over!

The writer is a Jalandhar-based freelance contributor. She can be contacted at pallavisingh358@gmail.com