Hiding the Hard Bits.

Padma ran her hand over the ruffles of the starched white apron that set off the candy cane stripes of the flounced dress. Matching ribbons of red fluttered from the hook of the hanger. Two gleaming black Mary Janes sat with toes pointing to the door. White ankle socks peeped from within.

This was Jaya's choice for her first day at kindergarten. Her little girl had always picked put her daily outfits with care; the first day of school was no exception. She still had a few minutes to spare before she woke her daughter on this momentous day. She leaned her forehead against the cool windowpane and gazed out, as though her daughter's future was depicted in the reflected picture there.

Pramod came up behind his wife; his arms encircled the still trim waist and conveyed that he shared her mixed emotions. On the one hand their daughter was taking her first step away from them, yet it was a day to be proud and happy. A day to steal a moment of quiet prayer for her continued well-being and success at all endeavours.

"Do we have enough time, dear? Hadn't you better go wake her? After all, we haven't quite done this before, any of us."

"I know, I am just dreading waving her good-bye. My little baby girl is all grown up."

"Honey, we have to let her go. She is a mature and capable child. I am sure it will be you who cry, not she."

Padma sighed and wondered whether she wished her daughter to maintain her composure and sunny outlook or whether a hint of tears and parting anxiety would calm her maternal longings. Being a parent is tough, wanting the best for one's child is not always the happiest of results for us.

Reluctant feet and faint heart could tarry no longer; she headed to her daughter's bedroom. The door was slightly ajar. Jaya never liked it shut; she said it made her feel shut off from Daddy and Mommy. She was so independent in other ways, so childish and endearing in this.

The form huddled under the comforter had one arm up-flung over the pillow and one still clutching the worn rabbit that had shared her bed since she was two. He looked more like amoeba than rabbit now; even his colour was an indeterminate gray.

Padma brushed the lock of hair that invariably flopped onto Jaya's forehead; the touch was caressing more than a waking nudge. Her voice was hushed, the moment was solemn and meaningful, it hovered on the edge of action.

"Wake up, sweetheart. Remember what day this is?"

Black curls bounced around the expectant face and a whoop resounded in the room. Bun-bun was thrown up into the air and caught.

"Of course, it is my first day at Univ. Mom, please make me your special griddle cakes and honey. I'll be down for brekkers in a sec."

Padma smiled at her daughter. Jaya had laid out her clothes the previous night, just as she had done all those years ago, before her first day at kindergarten. Red was still the accent of choice, but the attire was now blue jeans with T-shirt and jacket. The only constant is change. Some parent surely coined that.

Jaya was going to travel down to Pune's B. J. College with two other friends who had been accepted at the medical school there. The first time she would be away from home.

If her previous exploits and first days were any indications, she would manage just fine. It was Padma and Pramod who would have to adjust to the Empty-Nest Syndrome.

Padma went back to the little kitchen-cum-dining room and began on the breakfast. As she let the familiar routine lull the ache in her heart she reminded herself to put away the Jaya's kiddy clothes, back in the box where all the other 'milestone mementos' were kept. The first shoes, the drawing she made in art class, the trophy for best handwriting. All had a story to tell.

When Pramod and I go down to visit her in the Diwali break she is sure to be tired of that red T-shirt. I will bring it back and add it to my collection. I can't bring my baby back, but I can keep the memories intact.

Jaya had a great time that first day at college, unaware of the nostalgic ache she left in her mother's heart. Mothers are good at hiding the hard bits from their children. This is a tribute to all the first days that go smoothly because of those mothers.

Word count:777