The people in my life

Kaun hai itni mazedaar? She who describes the minutest of details like the colour of the walls(like roohafza pink she said) and then talks of milkshake related disorders. She tickles my funny bone and then takes over till I feel all prickly tickled inside and laugh my insides out sitting in my office.

He, who pokes sweet fun of his mother-in-law whispering something to me as she is probably sitting close. Says, here talk to the two, no three cartoons. One more today, he whispers, as your nani is also here. I gently chide him saying that is what the Z will tell Pickle soon. He laughs naughtily.

She, whose greeting over the phone is more of a song. Sister and I even made up a one act play on how she greeted people with song. The helloooooooooooo going on and on. With the classiest eye for detail. She who dresses up the living room where the magenta brocade on the cushion matches perfectly with the embroidered flower her girls made one summer vacation. Or maybe over many vacations when she gently asked us to finish the embroidery so that we could put it up.

He, with whom I make grandiose plans of watching a movie and who then promptly sleeps on my leg and snores away. The snores so loud that I'm sure even the dwellers of Star Trek, also the people we were supposed to watch on the big screen this afternoon, were startled.

And finally THE he, whose evening snack has been carefully planned and taken by his father as he picks him up from daycare. The he who insists I tell his friends everything he is doing before he joins them in the morning. So I just pretend to shout out to them that he is now brushing, eating breakfast and running around nanga.

And me, the big fat me, I never tell them any of this but I sit back and wait for my vanilla cake to bake and sip my ginger tea and tell myself for the umpteenth just how lucky I am.

I love the life in my people.