With shopping taken care of, it was time to pack. The room that was huge enough to get all the relatives together for a splendid Sunday lunch suddenly shrank to the size of a matchbox. There was no space to walk through the maze of things. I was leaving home for the first time. There was a lot that I had bought – bedspreads, clothes, crockery, cutlery, spices even pressure cookers! Little by little the goods made their way into the suitcases. As the room cleared, the emptiness grew. A sense of guilt began to take over me. Of course the happiness of going abroad to my husband, Ayoub was there but there was pain too.  

 

 

 

I was the only child to my parents, they were all I knew. It was by fate that I was able to stay back with them even after marriage but now it was time to move on. Mummy and papa made every effort possible to make me comfortable. They got me all my favourite eats and treats. They played with Aiyda as often as they could, I felt something in me curdle – was I leaving home or going home? Which was it? I didn’t know.  

 

 

When the day came, we spent most of the time avoiding each other. It was hard to eat, hard to speak, and even harder to keep that smile from slipping off my face. They could see through me. Papa would reach out, give me a quick hug and go away. Mummy would watch me in a daze, silent with glistening eyes. What was I doing to them? Was I being selfish, I wondered?  

 

 

I had waited for months to join Ayoub, we had discussed it so often that I could see the place even without being there - the drapes, the furniture and even the cute photo frame on the mantle that I had sent him with Aiyda’s picture in it. While I was packing my baggage, I kept the camera ready on hand. I had to shoot the moment when dad meets daughter for the first time. But before that, we took pictures as my parents bid their daughter adieu. I got the longest hug from mummy but papa kept his distance; maybe he didn’t want to add to the pain.   

 

 

 

The flight took four long hours. As we drifted over the clouds my thoughts cleared. Aiyda fell asleep on my lap; I took her tiny hands in mine and let go of the daughter in me. It was time to play mommy and head the family that was mine. Yes, I do love my parents and miss them too. But, you can’t sail in two boats at the same time. They would be happier if I was content in my world, I assured myself.  

 

 

At the airport, a very perky and eager Ayoub met us. As he took Aiyda in his arms, I clicked the shot – a moment frozen in print. I watched as she played with the keys in his hand. He rubbed his stubbly face against her soft cheeks and revelled in her giggles. When she got cranky, he crumbled butter cookies and tried to feed her. The two were inseparable, like they had known each other forever. His smile, his shining eyes and the words he didn’t say made me happy. I was home…