Okay so there isn't even a font dramatic enough for this one!!
No *cue drumroll* or remarkably-rad emoticon can prepare you
this!
What do you know, what do you know,
Nikita's having a babyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!! :O :o
Calming down (a wee bit),
to the uninitiated, this erratic font swap could possibly
lead to the assumption that the girl in question
is a either teen addict, or a clinical kid-hater, someone
who'd been declared well past baby-age, or
simply an undercover-alien, at the very least. :\
Just NOT someone who I saw as remotely likely to
have a baby, right?
Wrong. (mostly)
Nikita is a friend, more importantly,
a classmate, (horrible as that sounds,
I'll get to the significance in a minute)
who'd gotten hitched a couple of years back
while we were in the last year of our Undergrads.
One and a half years into our Masters, there is arguably no reason
why she shouldn't walk us to the canteen benches
one fine November and tell us that there is
a tiny little human being inside her,
like that's the most natural thing.
No, that makes perfect sense. Until
you realize that her's was one of the many
highschool-hungover faces
that had looked up at your own incurably-awkward one
on the first day of college,
as your eighteen year old naivete panicked
to spill through that half-rehearsed
oh-look-I-got-through-to-Presi cool.
This is the same girl, who'd stayed back after hours
to go full retard on college fests, celebrated a dozen group-people's
birthdays with you over the last
five years (whoaa. whoaa. FIVE?),
mulled over serious matters like
marks, men, Marlowe and Mc Donalds
with the whole lot of you -
in short, this is one of the few people who'd been
not just a bystander, but a
participant in that highstrung period drama called
*Growing Up*.
You see why this is all so strange now, don't you?
Someone, please, looooook.
We ARE kids. We aren't supposed to MAKE kids (yet)
:|
Moving on from my early-set existential crisis,
it goes without saying I am happpppy, amazed,
scared, happy-again, for Nikita. Overwhelmed,
if you will. :)
I don't think I can even begin to explain
just why this is turning out to be SUCH a big deal
for me. Mane, it's not like this is cue for me to take
a call on my now-warbled thoughts on marriage and motherhood,
unheeding of my crusading-journalism dreams. (The only clear picture at the moment.)
No, that'd have sucked. But still, this little thing about a friend,
my age, (hence, the classmate ref) being prepared to take on
responsibility of another little life, moved me to extremes I'd
figured I had left behind.
How strange it is, how breathtakingly beautiful,
that she should suddenly stop worrying over the
blandness of the lunch aunty had packed her, or the
cracked screen of her Lumia, and feel, for the first time,
the calm awareness of a second pulse, a different
rhythm of being, right in the depths of her
own. It'd make her gush,
ache and love, all at once. Without quite realizing,
without meaning to, she'd look back at all those times
she'd cribbed about not being grown-up-enough, or
that one time she'd had her heart broken, and almost
given up on miracles, and smile. Not in disregard or
contempt, but in happy wisdom. Now she knows,
she really really knows, I guess. :)
I suppose it is the sheer enormity of it, of
having a tiny nose, a forehead, a chin
painted in your image, that makes this so
astonishing. Adorable too. :)
I'd never forget the stars in her eyes when we screamed
like manic rioters around her,
hugging the proud little (not anymore ;) ) thing. :D
The future-daddy looked on, greatly amused, whether
over our wild amazement or over his own contribution in
triggering a reaction of this magnitude,
I am not sure. Hehe :)
So as the happy two filled us in about baby-themed
bedspreads and suction-pad-wala food bowls, Namrata and
Shalomi rushed to share the news with their respective
best men. (My less-cheesy synonym for 'boyfriend'. Learn it by heart :P)
In that moment, semi-hit by the absolute necessity of
sharing
such remarkable news, I dialed up Maa, who, obviously, could
not hear me over her class of thirty-three hormonal Ninth-graders.
So the *news* just lay there, awkward and pretty,
at the pit of my stomach, and for once in months,
I did not mind. :)
Happy feeling beautiful, Nikita.
This one's for you, and for the future fashion-critic who's on
her (I just know)
way to judge me for my hopeless
baggy tee.
Eee :D
No *cue drumroll* or remarkably-rad emoticon can prepare you
this!
What do you know, what do you know,
Nikita's having a babyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!! :O :o
Calming down (a wee bit),
to the uninitiated, this erratic font swap could possibly
lead to the assumption that the girl in question
is a either teen addict, or a clinical kid-hater, someone
who'd been declared well past baby-age, or
simply an undercover-alien, at the very least. :\
Just NOT someone who I saw as remotely likely to
have a baby, right?
Wrong. (mostly)
Nikita is a friend, more importantly,
a classmate, (horrible as that sounds,
I'll get to the significance in a minute)
who'd gotten hitched a couple of years back
while we were in the last year of our Undergrads.
One and a half years into our Masters, there is arguably no reason
why she shouldn't walk us to the canteen benches
one fine November and tell us that there is
a tiny little human being inside her,
like that's the most natural thing.
No, that makes perfect sense. Until
you realize that her's was one of the many
highschool-hungover faces
that had looked up at your own incurably-awkward one
on the first day of college,
as your eighteen year old naivete panicked
to spill through that half-rehearsed
oh-look-I-got-through-to-Presi cool.
This is the same girl, who'd stayed back after hours
to go full retard on college fests, celebrated a dozen group-people's
birthdays with you over the last
five years (whoaa. whoaa. FIVE?),
mulled over serious matters like
marks, men, Marlowe and Mc Donalds
with the whole lot of you -
in short, this is one of the few people who'd been
not just a bystander, but a
participant in that highstrung period drama called
*Growing Up*.
You see why this is all so strange now, don't you?
Someone, please, looooook.
We ARE kids. We aren't supposed to MAKE kids (yet)
:|
Moving on from my early-set existential crisis,
it goes without saying I am happpppy, amazed,
scared, happy-again, for Nikita. Overwhelmed,
if you will. :)
I don't think I can even begin to explain
just why this is turning out to be SUCH a big deal
for me. Mane, it's not like this is cue for me to take
a call on my now-warbled thoughts on marriage and motherhood,
unheeding of my crusading-journalism dreams. (The only clear picture at the moment.)
No, that'd have sucked. But still, this little thing about a friend,
my age, (hence, the classmate ref) being prepared to take on
responsibility of another little life, moved me to extremes I'd
figured I had left behind.
How strange it is, how breathtakingly beautiful,
that she should suddenly stop worrying over the
blandness of the lunch aunty had packed her, or the
cracked screen of her Lumia, and feel, for the first time,
the calm awareness of a second pulse, a different
rhythm of being, right in the depths of her
own. It'd make her gush,
ache and love, all at once. Without quite realizing,
without meaning to, she'd look back at all those times
she'd cribbed about not being grown-up-enough, or
that one time she'd had her heart broken, and almost
given up on miracles, and smile. Not in disregard or
contempt, but in happy wisdom. Now she knows,
she really really knows, I guess. :)
I suppose it is the sheer enormity of it, of
having a tiny nose, a forehead, a chin
painted in your image, that makes this so
astonishing. Adorable too. :)
I'd never forget the stars in her eyes when we screamed
like manic rioters around her,
hugging the proud little (not anymore ;) ) thing. :D
The future-daddy looked on, greatly amused, whether
over our wild amazement or over his own contribution in
triggering a reaction of this magnitude,
I am not sure. Hehe :)
So as the happy two filled us in about baby-themed
bedspreads and suction-pad-wala food bowls, Namrata and
Shalomi rushed to share the news with their respective
best men. (My less-cheesy synonym for 'boyfriend'. Learn it by heart :P)
In that moment, semi-hit by the absolute necessity of
sharing
such remarkable news, I dialed up Maa, who, obviously, could
not hear me over her class of thirty-three hormonal Ninth-graders.
So the *news* just lay there, awkward and pretty,
at the pit of my stomach, and for once in months,
I did not mind. :)
Happy feeling beautiful, Nikita.
This one's for you, and for the future fashion-critic who's on
her (I just know)
way to judge me for my hopeless
baggy tee.
Eee :D
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