My Dear Son Vir,

 

Tujhmain Rab dikhta hai, yaara main Kya karoon ...

(I see the Almighty in you, oh my buddy, what do I do...)

 

These are lines from a popular Bollywood movie song. When you were born, I would play it on an endless loop. Your sister Siya was only six years old at the time of your birth - about as old as you are now - and she was thrilled to bits. She would bring random people home to show off her new baby brother. Even Papa was euphoric; he would do his funny, happy dance, Naani came all the way from Mumbai to Dubai especially to see you and hold you in her arms. Back in India, Dadu and Nana distributed mithai to friends and relatives to share the happiness they felt on your birth.

 

I was completely star struck with you, baby Vir. I wouldn't let you out of my sight. I loved looking at you all day and even late into the nights. I can honestly say, that I did indeed see God in you.

 

After being a career woman all my life, I was keen to enjoy motherhood to the fullest with you. I would take you in a buggy and go all around town. On sunny mornings, I would spread a blanket on the grass and play with you for hours till the sprinklers would start, and we had to bundle everything – toys, blanket, the buggy and you - and run. Some mornings I would take you to the beach and play in the sand and feed the sea gulls. I miss those days: just you and me in our beautiful little world: you exploring the world, looking around with your big, curious eyes and being amazed by everything, and me enjoying your awe and simply being with you.

 

You know it’s a good thing, not all wishes are granted. I must admit some days I have wished that time would stand still and you would continue to be my little Viru. But boy, you have grown. In the past seven years, I've watched you grow roughly 4 feet in height and miles in 'niceness' and ‘maturity’. You used to fit in my lap, and now you stand tall and confident. Very soon you will reach to my shoulder. Last week when I saw you on stage at the winter concert, my heart was full of pride and my eyes full of tears as I swallowed and tried to keep my emotions in check.

 

There are a million instances when you have managed to bring a smile to my face. One such story goes back a couple of years. You were only four years old. One evening, you returned home from the park severely injured with a bleeding nose. We panicked and took you to the nearest hospital. While I was talking to doctors outside the surgery room, I could hear some chuckles from inside the hospital room. I peeped in and saw you cracking jokes and making the nurses and ward boys laugh. I started breathing again. Everybody was amazed and amused by you, while you, my little brave boy, was coolly getting stitched up. With every stitch you got, I clenched my fist, you just observed and absorbed the experience calmly. I couldn’t have been more proud of you. Today, the injury is long gone, but the memory remains, just as the scar on the bridge of your nose. But that did not dampen your spirit one bit. You had great fun telling your friends that you were born in the ‘Nike’ factory and the scar on your nose is the ‘Nike swoosh’!

 

Bravery, Humour, and Wit. You don’t stop to amaze us there. Over these seven years, I have seen you developing close friendships, loving and respecting your sister, finding humor in mundane things, playing fair and working hard. I've seen glimpses of the man you'll be. And he is amazing and funny and caring and beautiful and kind and respectful and a very good man. The ladies in your life are going to be lucky. And they better be thankful to me.  

 

If I could grant you one wish, I would give you the ability to see yourself through our eyes, only then would you realize how very special you are to Papa, Siya and me. I know you would probably say why am I wasting a wish, and instead should wish for you the ability to knock some bat like Virat Kohli. So, my beloved son, let me explain in terms you’d understand. For me, you are my Virat. You've made my world a better place. A tad bit messy, but wonderful never the less.

 

All through my battle with my illness, it was you and Siya who kept me going. When you first touched my bald head and approved of it, I felt beautiful. I felt strong enough for the challenge. Thank you. You have been my strength. And also my stylist at times, with the close attention you pay to my lipstick shades and earrings!

 

I so want to be around to see you and Siya grow and become beautiful people leading happy lives. Success is a byproduct; it will just follow.    

 

Vir, my son, be your person. Be kind. Be respectful. Stand up for what's right, don't be afraid to be wrong or to fail.

 

The first seven years of having you in our lives have been marvelous, and I hope we both enjoy the next seven and beyond with just as much wonder.

 

I adore your laughter

I cherish your hugs

I admire your heart

But most of all

I love that you are my son

 

Your ‘crazy-about-you’ mum,

Priti

 

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