He looked still, unmindful of the human verities. He eyeballed only at the swiftly moving Baleno car. He is unaware of the reality that the car and the one in the driver’s seat won’t come back soon.

I was holding him tightly. My 220-day old baby, Anvik was preoccupied with the fleeting thoughts of the car that just moved far away from his minute vision. To put him back to the tracks of his baby pranks, Anvik’s Grandpa made some funny gestures. He even raised his hands to catch hold of the cute little one. Contrary to the usual excitement, the baby did not show any signs of exhilaration to his Grandpa. He was hesitant to leave me and for a few moments, he remained silent sans his alluring expressions. We found it hard to interrupt his train of thought.

I pondered for a while: What all thoughts will be going through my darling baby’s tiny brain? Does he know that the car and his Father won’t come back anytime soon? Is he aware that his Dad is done with the holidays?

A myriad of emotions drenched my senses. I was in short of words and sounds to cheer his cherubic face. He was unwilling to give his attention to any till the car disappeared from his vicinity. Grandpa waved his hands once again and Anvik did not disappoint him anymore. His smile was wavering in his apprehensions. He came back to me and slept within no time.

After an hour, my baby got up. Was he searching for someone/something? I really don’t know. Was he desperate to play on the floor with his Dad?

I made a futile endeavor to imitate his Dad’s voice and the way he addressed baby: Anveek, Anveek. Boy, boy!

To my surprise, I could feel a gesture of surprise in him with some amusing sounds. It did not take much time for his surprise to vanish.

Was he waiting for the arrival of the car? Was he curious to sit inside it and play? Was he looking around hither and thither for his Father?

I took him out to the front of the courtyard. We could hear the sound of a vehicle fast approaching. He just glanced for a while. Anvik’s baby mind could easily comprehend the fact that it is not his Dad’s car and his Dad is not going to come back anytime soon. I could sense a sort of dejection in his teeny-weeny eyes. I do not know how to console my baby. Neither do I know how to play with him like his Dad nor do I know how to stop the movements of the car and his Dad. I looked vulnerably at my loving munchkin.

Anvik’s language needs no filter. I recollect the last night he spent with his Dad. He was incessantly uttering ‘Chaa, Achaa, Achaa’ (Achan, Accha – Father in Malayalam language) for long. Indeed, it was a petite word that he hardly voiced when his Achan was around him. I am still unable to make out why Baby Anvik kept on calling his Achan for long. Now, Achaa is the major word that keeps on reverberating in every nook and cranny of our home.

Is he yearning to have a glimpse of his Dad? I really don’t know. He ceased to reciprocate for my innovation of Anveek. The moment the neighbour’s car begins to make a move, he notices it without any curiosity. My seven- month old baby does not cling to any false hope as he is in a phase of knowing the reality. He has to put himself in tune with the music of daily life where his Dad and car will appear one fine day somewhere far, somewhere near.

Anvik’s innocent feelings are unequivocally perceived by his endearing eyes. Staying tuned for his Dad! Will his Dad ever know these serene reactions? Will he also go through the same emotional phase of little Anvik? I do not know.

It’s all up to Master Anvik and his Achan. What resonates in my mind at present is a quote from the acclaimed writer Nicholas Sparks. “It is the possibility that keeps me going, not the guarantee”.

Yes, I also wait for the possibility of a Father and his baby boy to catch up soon.