Babies

It had been a busy day, spent squeezed tightly into the small family van, touring all of Hyderabad's swanky sari boutiques where I looked at the most beautiful hand-painted fabrics that even in Indian currency were far out of my price range. It was a sleepy evening, but a certain cheer filled the air. It being my last night with the Chatwani's for the time being, I was soaking in the emotionally intense vibes that the family so naturally and shamelessly exudes. Goldy was out in the street in his white undershirt and red bath towel tied around his waist, buying ice cream from the ice cream man who was pushing his cart through the neighborhood on this sultry evening. Wanting to embrace the breeze and make sure that I didn't end up with any artificially flavored fruit filled ice-cream, I went out to join him.

I was leaning against the cart looking into the freezer when a twelve year old girl from the tents down the street came for her own evening treat. Her dark black hair was half down, the loose locks falling onto her shoulders in their tangles. She had a pink traditional outfit on with simple silver colored embroidery, dirty from her outdoor living. Her bright smile illuminated her dark complexion. We stood smiling at each other with gentle curiosity and adoration, knowing the impossibility of our communicating. I heard her two year old brother's soft cry and the "patpatpatpat" sound of his quick steps, resembling a little duckling quacking and scampering after his mother. Then I heard the grating, intrusive sound of an accelerating motorcycle with a tampered muffler. In a matter of seconds, and without any recollection of having processed any thoughts, but purely out of instinct, I found myself down the street with this babe in my arms, safe from the unlit lane's oncoming traffic. Everyone remained unmoved just as they seemed last week when another little boy nearly lost his life at the hands of a truck tire twice his size, the only testament of any arousal being the horrific screeching of breaks and the instantaneous cooling of my blood.

Not minding his soiled pants, I held this sweet, young dear in my left arm for the next many minutes. With his left hand holding my right index finger, the little boy smiled gleefully as I rapidly bent my knees and bounced back up straight. A hand reached around to pinch the jovial boy's cheek and offer me a smile. I swayed and smiled and stared at this precious boy before handing him over to the young girl and returning inside where I was consumed with an unshakable longing to hold a baby.