Lots of people took tranquility for granted.
Like having a quiet evening to yourself after an extra hard day of work. Like sitting the hall, idly watching television or reading the paper while you sip on green tea made by your loving wife. Or like just sitting back in the couch, and just closing your eyes, without having to worry about the maid scuttling about, or the telephone ringing or your mother and aunt talking about stuff or your uncle and father discussing something or -
Well you get the picture. If you don't, then obviously, you haven't been raised in Modi Bhavan, and you are not Aham Modi.
Days like these came by rarely for Aham, and when they did, he grabbed them. Putting his laptop bag down, he just sunk back in the plush sofa and was about to close his eyes.
Not more than exactly two seconds later, a little blur of blue and green launched itself on him.
Grinning, Aham caught the little blur and hoisted him high up in the air. He was met by an exciting squeal of approval.
"Wheeel!!"
Aham laughed and pulled his son down to his lap. As soon as he did that, he was smothered with little kisses. His heart swelled, planting a kiss on his son's forehead, he fondly ruffled his hair, " what did you do today, little guy?"
His son lifted his big black eyes, so akin to Gopi's, " Mummy ko sataya" came the reply.
Aham chuckled, his son was so like him, "Mummy kahan hai?" he asked.
His son shrugged, taking to playing with his toy that was strewn on the sofa.
"Krishna, come back here now!" his wife came out of the kitchen, a glass of milk in her hand. Her face was flushed, and she stopped and breathed a sigh as she spotted Krish in his arms. Her hair stuck out at all ends, courtesy, probably the little guy sitting on his lap right now.
Shaking her head, she sat down the sofa, and smiled at him, " Aham Ji, aaj aap jaldi aa gaye" she said, pushing the glass of milk to their son.
Krishna inched away from the milk, turned around in his lap, and buried his face into Aham, "Na" he said in a muffled voice, shaking his head for good measure.
Aham chuckled, while Gopi sighed, " Krish, Dikra" she cooed softly, placing the glass of milk in the tea table " Ahiya Aao" she called, her hands outstretched for the boy.
Krish turned his face slightly and looked at his mother, satisfied that there was no milk in sight; he crawled out of Aham's lap and into Gopi's.
Gopi engulfed their son in her arms, and picked him up. Muttering softly to the child, she carried him to the kitchen.
Aham watched as Krish listened to his mother with rapt attention, his big black eyes twinkling. He smiled, oh yeah, his son was exactly like him.
Gopi turned to him now, " Aap nahi aa rahe hai? Your green tea is ready" she said nodding towards the kitchen.
He nodded, and pushed himself from the sofa and followed his wife and son into the kitchen.
****
Aham was in his bedroom, stretched out on his bed, his legs crossed out before him. He was reading a magazine; one hand idly resting on his son's sleeping head.
After a few seconds, he gave up, and tossed the magazine across the bed, and focused his entire attention on what he had actually been doing for the last ten minutes - watch Gopi.
He leaned back, hooked his hand behind his head, and watched as Gopi combed out her long hair. She was beautiful. And he wasn't just talking about her beautiful big black eyes that spoke more than she ever did, her petal lips which always perked up in a smile when she saw him, and somehow that landed a smile on his face too, after an excruciating hard day. Gopi wasn't beautiful because she had an innocent child like face that could melt any heart - he should know, she had melted him!
Of course he had almost blown it, but - he looked down as his son turned on his side, his hand curled in a small fist by his side.
He bent down and placed a soft kiss on his son's cheek. Krish wrinkled his nose and dug his face more into the pillow in response.
Yea, he had almost blown it, but god had a way with things, and he was glad for that now.
He straightened up again and turned his attention to Gopi.
No, his wife was beautiful because of the person she was. Because she was the softest person he ever knew. Because she was warm and compassionate. Because she knew how to give endlessly. Because she was loving, caring and tender.
She was beautiful where it mattered, and that was what he loved the most about her.
His heart swelled with love once more, and he swung his legs from the bed and walked to her. She noticed from the mirror as she stood up, and raised her brow at him, smiling softly. He shook his head, and continued walking, enjoying the amusement and the slight blush on her face.
And it gave him a huge kick when she did that - blush.
Walking up behind her, he wrapped his arms around her and rocked her slightly. "You're beautiful, you know" he muttered, placing a kiss on her ear-lobe.
She leaned into him and closed her eyes, "mmmn" she murmured. Her fingertips were drawing vague patterns on his arms around her waist.
He sighed in contentment and smattered kisses across her ear, cheek and chin.
A loud cackle reverberated through the house. Aham scowled as he reluctantly dropped his hands to his side, and Gopi rushed to the bed to comfort their son who had woken up with a start.
That cackle could belong to only one person. There was no question who. The question was - what the hell was she doing in their house so late in the night?
***
A/N - Yes, I know I have a record with late updates, but this one will be done by this week, promise. As this was supposed to be an OS. :)
R & R, guys! :)
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