Change, I heard, is the only constant in life. Most of us find change to be the catalyst of our joys and aspirations. There are also people who live in perennial hope of some radical change in their lives, never to live the joys of the moment. And when the change comes, it ascribes an altogether different meaning to the want. Have you ever been stuck in a change that you wished and prayed desperately for and yet, wanted to undo it all when it came in an unexpected form? ‘Sleep, my angel’ is the story of one such person.
“Sleep, my angel, roaming free,
the day is charmed, the night breezy…”
I had never sung her a lullaby. This was an unusual desire. I wished I could cuddle her. She had been mumbling in her sleep for quite some time now. Her father lay next to her, exhausted by two consecutive weeks of running around, signing papers and finishing off with tedious, unnecessary formalities. She had wriggled out of the covers too. I tried to reach out in desperation; as if in a dream. The futility of it gnawed away at my core reminding me of my inability to make her snug in bed once again. She had already rolled over and put her arms around her father, who tucked her in lovingly. I lingered on till the cuckoo clock sprung out, gauging the chiasmic distance between us. It had been two weeks now since we had parted ways. The weather didn’t look too balmy either. It wasn’t the ‘thunder, storm and lightning’ kind but just a melting, sweeping drizzle pressing upon the window. Irrespective of the weather, it was getting increasingly difficult to go away now.