An open letter to my 2 year old

Dear Shikhar,

Are you really turning two today?

Just two?

Only 2 years since my world imploded and exploded and turned on its head and its axis and a new me was born?

Just two years since you came along and in the midst of those wonderful doctors and nurses, put your chubby little palm on my face and smiled a smile that in the most literal sense of the word altered my life.


I have not loved you the way i have for just 2 years? Surely, i have known you longer? decades? centuries? or i am just being a bit mad :)

Even though you are little, you are oddly enough becoming someone i rely on. That day , a few weeks ago when the ants started crawling all over my leg, you sprung into action with a 'Shikhar helping mumma'. And you blew at them and batted them away like a pro.  Cool and calm, like you were 15.

When you wake up, I like to be around. You and i spend the first few moments of your day looking into each others eyes. Yours are shaped like a large almond, by the way. For some reason, this has become a ritual- just spend a few precious moments looking at each other. We are both smiling because we are both looking at our favourite person in the world.

We spend the last few moments before your day ends together too. You lay on my stomach ( your favourite pillow in the world) in the darkened room and you tell me which songs to sing as i pat your forehead. Ba ba black sheep, twinkle, lakadi ki kathi, happy birthday to you- i sing, fairly tunelessly, and you love it. You sing along, add your comments, giggle and more often than not say something that makes me laugh. Sometimes we do numbers, alphabets, days of the week ( i ask you everyday what day it is and its either a monday or a friday. And if i dont looktoo happy, you hurriedly tell me that the Sun is out ). Sometimes, i tell you about my day and sometimes, you tell me about yours.

Sometimes when i think you are busy doing something, i try to sneak into the other room and begin to count silently. I have never reached 10 before i can hear the familar ' mumma, mumma?' and the sound of your little feet pattering around the house looking for me reaches me. It always makes me smile.

I am the demontrative kind of parent. I tell you that i love you, i smother you with kisses, i hug you, i hold your hand just because.

You speak a lot, and often surprise me with how clever your thinking process is. The one phrase you still have a baby version for is 'I love you'. You say 'I laa loo'. But the fault is partly mine. I never correct you because there is an innocence to the I la loo that i want to cling on to. Sometimes you tell me with the sweetest smile -' i missed you mumma' and my heart melts and then when i tell you that i love you ( which i do about 10 times each day because i want you to know without any doubt that i do )you say 'I la loo mumma' and i dont know what to do. Today while i was feeding you lunch, you turned to me and smiled.
'I la loo Mumma' you said without me having encouraged you to say that in any way. The very first time you said that- made my heart melt that one :)


I have always loved you, even before i knew you, i loved you. However, in the last year you are slowly but steadily and even though you are just two, you are becoming someone whose company i enjoy a lot. You are becoming a friend. Odd, but true.


I wish you the happiest of birthdays, my darling Shikhar. Fly high and claim the mountain peaks. I have your back. I will always have your back.

I la loo, shikhar. I la loo very much.

Ma.