Three days without Mira

"Aren’t you getting late?," my mum-in-law asked alarmingly, as I frantically surfed the internet to locate some good lacquer shops recommended by various blogs on Vietnam. “Don’t worry. I always do my best in the eleventh hour,” I said confidently, as I turned off my laptop and ran through the last few things I was intended to complete before taking the flight a few hours away.

Everything was in order – my e-tickets printed, formal clothes ironed and carefully folded, laptop chord suitably placed and a decent stack of US dollars neatly inserted in my pocket purse. I was ready for the trip – my first ever official trip in the last 15 months since Mira was born. I was excited. Excited about going to a new country. Excited about going to a new country alone. Excited about the change – of having a schedule that just had meetings, presentations and brainstorming. After all, it was my first chance in a long time to put a face to my work – the work that I had been doing for a while now on a part-time basis from home.

“Mira’s cough hasn’t subsided,” mum-in-law intervened worriedly. If it doesn’t get better, she might get really cranky and tough to handle. “Don’t worry mummy,” I said encouragingly. Mira is recovering pretty fast. Also, she really likes her nanny and is used to being with her through most parts of the day. She won’t really miss me and before she knows, I’ll already be back. 3 days is no big deal, I assured Mummy and myself to some extent.

The journey began with a rough start. The plane was awfully cold and kept getting worse as a scantily clad woman next to me refused to turn off her air vent, giving me a bad running nose and a severe allergy. My mind had gone numb. There were absolutely no thoughts. I just wanted to get to my hotel and rest for the night before starting the next two days of insanely long meetings.

Day 1 started at 9 am. I made sure that there was enough time for me to call up home and check on Mira, before I left for the office. “How did she do in the night?,” I asked as mum-in-law picked up the phone in a single ring. Mira had never slept without me - though she lay separately on her cot every night but shifted to my bed as soon as she got up for some milk. Mum-in-law sounded better – “Oh, it was no issue at all,” she said. “She did get up once but the nanny was by her side. She handled her well. Don’t you worry and carry on with your work.”

I was calm and composed as I left for the office. The meeting went off well – there were people from different agencies presenting their plans and ideas for the year ahead. I made sure that I contributed my bit to the discussion. Though I carefully listened to each person talking, my mind kept wandering off to Mira every now and then. She would be getting ready for lunch - I thought as I sipped a cup of coffee with my new found colleagues. I talked about her to anyone and everyone with the slightest interest in kids. “I have left her alone for the first time,” I explained. My hosts nodded as I continued with her anecdotes and gave me some fabulous company for rest of the evening. I returned to the hotel happy and satisfied. Just two more days to go, I thought to myself.

The second day was not much different from the first one. There were key product updates followed by presentations and discussions. But, I was much more distracted than the day before, juggling between my thoughts about Mira and my keenness to work. There was a growing sense of sadness within me. I missed having Mira around, being a part of that innocent laughter and infectious cheerfulness. I missed running after her, playing with her or probably just being with her. But, there was a conflicting sense of satisfaction too. Satisfaction of standing up in a forum different from my comforting home. Satisfaction of being heard, challenged and cornered. Satisfaction of being a bit more than what I was to Mira and Papa at home.

I was thoroughly confused. The perennial question of getting back to a full-time job loomed strongly in my head. “Will I survive a cut-throat full-time job?” I wondered. “Could I keep up with the lengthy travel plans and the unpredictable office hours?” I struggled. Once again I left the decision to time. Taking comfort that it was not a question I had to answer immediately, I got back to the discussion. Raised my hand and made a point.

The third day was much more different. All my sadness and discomfort had transformed into excitement – the hurry to get back home was driving me mad. I reported at the airport much more in advance. There was an unexplained fear as I went through the counters. ‘Has my visa got over?’ – I worried when the officer took a second more to go through my papers. ‘Does the plane have a technical fault?’ - I fretted as the boarding got delayed by a couple of minutes.

But thankfully, all was perfectly fine and I reached back home well on time. I ran to Mira’s room as soon as I got in. “She just slept off,” my mum-in-law declared disappointedly. “We tried keeping her awake but she just couldn’t manage. All that walking must have tired her out and she finally went off to sleep, some 5 minutes back.”

I dropped my bags and headed towards the cot. As I looked at my baby in that dimly lit room – I wondered if she ever realized that I was gone or if I would ever be back? I saw that unparalleled peace on her face, her hair sticking together with the sweat in her head and her thumb comfortably thrust into her mouth. As I lay by her side, I felt a familiar sense of ease – the ease of getting back to a life I knew so well and I so much enjoyed being in. Now I impatiently waited for the day to begin - a new beautiful day that would have a cheerful Mira running all over the house and a smiling mom watching her with love and delight.