For the last six months, my Mum has been writing all sorts of stuff about me, while I was a little busy figuring out this world and life. Anyhow, I decided it was time to get my voice heard, and what better than to use her blog itself to tell you my side of the story.
So here goes.
Last year, in August, I was forcefully thrown out of my comfortable quarters in my Mum’s tummy. She still admires me for my incredible timing, since her waters broke the morning after my Papa arrived in India from Ivory Coast. Little does she know that I was quite blissfully floating in those very waters and had the least inclination to be disturbed. Life doesn’t work that way, it seems. My own house ejected me quite rudely and I was ‘born’.
Well, well. Life was hard after that. I suddenly had to work to get my food, had to push out all the poo inside me, had to tolerate heat and cold and worst of all, I had to cope with the blinding light of what you guys call the ‘sun’! My Mum would complain about how I was forever hungry. But hey, what do you expect if you have a stomach the size of a marble, which empties out every time you pee?
But to be fair, life wasn’t all that bad either. There were tons of aunts, uncles, grandparents, great grandparents, grand aunts and uncles wanting to peek at me or hold me. My Mum would hyper-ventilate every time a new relative would want to touch me. Infections, diseases and stuff, she would say. But me, I quite liked it. I felt like a celebrity!
My life there was temporary though. Mum would keep telling me tales about Ivory Coast, where she and Dad actually lived. She’d come to India to have me, you see. So, she’d often set off musing about this other continent, how I’d have beaches and walks and nannies and friends from around the world there. It all sounded quite exciting and I was rearing to get there.
When I was less than a week old, I’d made a personal visit to the local passport office, submitting my photo and character certificate (yeah, they wanted that!). Before I was ten days old, I had a passport of my own. At two weeks, I had my first visa. By three weeks, I’d been to the nearest mall to buy the basics I’d need in my new home. And before I’d even completed a month, I flew to Dubai and after a night there, we set off onwards to Abidjan.
Now, if you’re liking my story, do come back next week. I sure am enjoying narrating it, but you see, even though I’m 6 months’ old, I’m still tiny and it’s time for my feed and nap. And I still have so much to tell you- what happened on the flight and after I reached the much-heard of Ivory Coast. So see you next week?
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Piyushi Dhir is the author of 'In Search of Love', 'I'm Yours, The Next Time', 'Silent Promises' and 'Enmeshed Evermore'. She is a contributor in 'Nineteen Tales of COVID-19', a collection of short stories. A voracious reader, a keen traveler, a businesswoman and a mom, Piyushi currently resides in Canada. A nomad at heart, she loves to discover new places and capture the hues of life with her pen.