Little Girl

Late this morning, I decided to overcome the laziness that inevitably creeps in when one is in the vacation mode, with late nights, later mornings, wonky meal timings and marathon TV sessions. Giving myself a mental slap on the back, I finished my morning session of breathing exercises and made my way to the pool...for someone who hates perspiring as much as I do, swimming is by far the most preferred way of burning some calories.

The apartment complex in which I live, has the luxury of a beautiful swimming pool, not very deep (sadly), but not too shallow either. It has beautiful tiles in three shades of blue, interspersed with white. In summer the water is always pleasant and in winter (if you can call it that in Mumbai!) it's delightfully cold. When I'm in it, I just don't know where the time goes.

This morning, when I emerged from the changing room, I was mildly surprised to find the waters disturbed and another swimmer in the pool (you see, I usually try to ensure that I swim at such a time, when I am most likely to have the pool all to myself...somehow, I treat this shared property as a personal estate!). Moreover, there were all kinds of things in the water; two hideous and garishly coloured plastic fish, a brightly painted ball of some kind, peculiar flat plastic discs of some sort...all bobbing about in sharp contrast to hues of the pool, which fought most desperately to maintain some semblance of their dignity (and failed most miserably, I might add!).

My eyes quickly sought the owner of the little things and found the culprit buoyed by armbands, in the far end of the pool, boldly appraising me as I lowered myself into the same. It was a little girl, her skin browned by the sun, dark hair cut to shoulder length and held up with little clips. The moment I was in the water and about to kick away from the wall she hailed me in a voice that belied her petite form. She called me "Uncle" (a term to which I have a particular objection)...I much prefer "bhaiya" (older brother) when addressed by children; but nevermind that now! Isn't there something wonderful about the way in which a child will reach out to you, completely unabashed, guileless and genuine? I wonder when (and why) most of us stopped being like that...

Despite my dissatisfaction with the condition of the pool, I was unable to ignore this child...just as I can never ignore any child who speaks to me. I've loved babies ever since my first cousin Amu was born (I was only eight years old at the time) and I was allowed to help with looking after her. As more and more adorable cousins were added to the swelling ranks of my grandparents' grandchildren, I got the chance of looking after more babies and watching the older ones grow into children. My love for children, pretty much comes from those experiences...as the oldest of the cousins I still get to look after them, fuss over them, play ridiculous games, even be a little bossy every now and then. Somehow, this attitude has
generalised to my interactions most children, regardless of whether their caregivers are around!

So, when this little girl imperiously asked me to play with her, I had no choice but to oblige her. I spent the next half hour or so doing my laps but also pausing every now and then to reply to her loud, excited questions and demands. During this time, I managed to discover her name, introduced myself and found out that she was six years old and studied in a school called "nursery" (lol!). I helped her gather the floating toys when they moved beyond her reach, dived to bring up the ones that sank and finally gave her a few lessons in using her arms and legs more effectively in the water. That quickly tired her; she announced that she had had enough and that her legs were weary. Her bemused nanny was hovering around the edges of the pool all along, no doubt a little befuddled to find a stranger holding a pleasant conversation with her her excitable little ward. I took the opportunity to hand the child over, said my goodbye and promised to meet up later, upon which she informed me that the next time we met she would like me to jump into the deepest end of the pool along with her...