Say my name

Achyut Kayastha
4 min readOct 5, 2020

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The baby knows what the baby wants. Its someone he is running towards, mumbling aloud the name, hands held like wings and legs played like mini dribble, as if, at the moment of impact, some kind of Astro dimensional rocket of some element goes poof and the whole space is lightened up.

There the baby comes into my arms running at the pace of Kipchoge, that he might even trip on the way, a little inclined tub, or a bent path, almost thrilling to bear the sight on , every time. Its not slow-mo, not even so fast paced, but the kind of speed one would wish to supervise, test, analyze, and keep on glaring at , hoping it would not end but the later, the same time.

“Achutt”, “Achutt”, he says, when he sees me. When I came to this place, he was just a small one. 2 feet maybe, as curly hairs as Chowmein, and a a baby face, he used to mindlessly run around from one room to the next without any chores to do, or any things to play -pick. He would just run. At first, I just thought that our astrological deeds match, because I “lobe” running too, and getting to see a child run around in that fashion got me. “ he has a great running career ahead of him” I mumbled wannabe-humorously. And, yes, as we got to spend more time together, as the number of times I lift and throw him up and embrace, play upside down to up, do “khoi khoi khoi khoi, uhhhhh” with him, the bond grew bigger. His chant of my name grew more repetitive and frequent. His mom says, he mumbles my name even when he is about to sleep, or when she is cooking food_ or when he wakes up.. The most random times, he would say my name. And realizing the fact that my name is the first name he has ever said, feels different.

He would come knocking at my doors in the morning, which takes my sleep away, so I pull him under the bedsheet to cuddle with me. And then, he starts chanting “mammy, mammy, mammy, baba , baba, baa,” and, getting irritated, I let him go.

I tell him to say my name and not “maamy” or “baba”,. Because all he does is say people’s name reference repeatedly, looking at their faces, and nothing else. His world’s something different. When I hold him, I try to feel from his perspective, how the embrace must even feel like, in his age, because, sadly enough, I don’t remember what it felt like to be embraced when I was that age. I seriously don’t, and I am sure most of us don’t, too. I think, all the love and care the parents and guardians give to kids all form up to consolidate for some kind of happy/carefree type of personality. It gets integrated into their subconscious and will later affect them when they are older.

So, I wonder , how much love is enough? How much of it will suffice even? Seeing myself and being conscious about my behaviour when I am with those cuddly little ones, I begin to think, about my own genetic programming even. The way I am even designed and evolutionalized is quite something. We , humans are designed for love. It is a mesmerizing force, which makes us forget about ourselves and live in the moment. And, then, I ask how much more different kinds of love and how much do I yet have to gain even. And also, I don’t really know how it would be to have my own kids someday, will the love exponentialize? Will it even be something that’s comparable? I don’t know. Don’t know a lot of things. But, for now, I know that, the little one, Diyan, will forget me when I leave this temporary place(where I stay for only 2 months). He will forget me in the matter of months , never to realize I even exist thereafter. Or , would he? Would there be a void in his little subconscious heart when I am no more around him? Does my love count as a bucket of a special kind which he has to keep, or is it just the addition of the emotion in the big bucket that he has got? Such an unnecessary curiosity but I would love to know that ,someday, somehow. So, that’s why, I am keeping all the memories with me, the photos of us, the videos, as much as I can and want, so that when he gets old and understandable, I can show him, and ask him, if he remembers any of this? Or is it all forgotten? Surely, it would be sad in the first couple of days , imagining him, crying all over the place chanting my name, Achuutt, Achutt, Achutt, Achyuuuuuut(The long u).. It’s just so heartbreaking. And I will keep contact as much as I can and want. Its just that, its the ending of a chapter that won’t repeat and can’t repeat , nor stay for long. And so is with many things with life I think. There are many stories that stayed while it did. Now they only exist in memories. But, the energy remains, and that’s what we ought to be grateful for. The energy can fade away but is never destroyed. And we can use it for eternity until mortality . Because it’s a long way to go, so many stones to un-turn, so many stories to live and then leave. And so many throw up-into-the-airs to gift to kids, so that they taste sky , see heaven and choose to return back into my arms.

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Achyut Kayastha
Achyut Kayastha

Written by Achyut Kayastha

Wishes he could read more than he sleeps.

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