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OF FATHERS, BROTHERS AND LITTLE ONES.
(Previously: Two Men and a Baby.)
It had been days since Ishita had been away for work leaving Raman behind with an overbearing elder son far too pampered by his Ishima and a little Ruhi who chomped on everything in sight. His Ruhi was fairly chubby - not that he ever complained. She was healthy, he would say much to Ishita's ire.
It was of no help that Mummyji and Papaji along with the rest of the siblings had chosen to visit Shamsherji and his family during this time of turmoil leaving Raman behind with two mischievous brats. And the fact that Ruhi graduation was right around the corner.
"Are you sure you can do this?" his baby girl asked him in an adoring manner as she sat on her mother's makeup chair (clearly too high for her) and sipped on her mother's favorite green smoothie while she handed her father a hot rod meant to tame her hair.
Raman instead cringed at the weapon of destruction in his hands and then looked back at his little one, all hope restored. He had to please her, he couldn't let her down. Dad's didn't do that, did they? He nodded his head, hesitantly, trying to convince himself that he, eventually, would learn to do it even if he burnt a strand or two. How many time had he watched Ishita do this. Let's not go there. Those times were too x-rated to be thought about in front of innocents and the consequences far too harsh.
"Probably," shrugged Raman's elder son, Adi, as he hooked his game console to the television. "But then, maybe you should make him practice on your Barbies', Ru!" Adi burst into fits of laughter causing Raman to scowl at him, while Ruhi giggled at the men in her life.
Where was Ishita when she was needed the most?
"Don't burn my hair Papa," pouted Ruhi. "Or my face."
Maybe it was of some help that Adi spent the last week watching far too many make-up tutorials or Raman did being dragged around to various boutiques to select a dress far too expensive for Ishita's liking. He could, infact, imagine her face when he handed over his credit card bills - his promised limit crossed in the matter of days.
"Swat the makeup across the jaw to check for skin tone," read Adi, from a pile on notes comprising of scrawny handwriting and far too many colors. "It's a match."
"Moisturise," yelled Raman from across the kitchen later that day as their massive living room revamped in to a make-do makeup artist hub.
"Yep, do we do eye makeup first or foundation," Adi yelled back.
"Eye makeup? Logically that would mean that you won't mess up the foundation."
"Let's do the foundation first," said Adi to a clueless Ruhi. "Oxidise. Oxidise." He tapped his feet.
"Suck your cheeks in, Ruhi," Raman picked up the contour stick. "Opposite three."
"Isn't that far too much makeup, Dad?"
"Shush, don't be like Ishima,"
"Inverted triangles below the eyes and above the bridge of her nose (between the eyebrows)," said Adi as he picked up the highlight stick.
"I know what a tzone is, Adi," grumbled Raman.
The boys took a break as Raman styled Ruhi's hair into loose waves and Adi fed her food making sure she wouldn't mess her face up. And then they proceeded to complete her eye makeup. And between an perfectionist brother and a know-it-all father, Ruhi was left looking nothing less than a little princess complete with a baby pink princess dress and her brother far to happy to take the role of Prince Charming in a tux.
Only when Ishita did rush into the room, her luggage yet to be carried in by the chauffer, mumbling a hundred and ten apologies was she shocked - not to see the mess of the house they had made but a grown up man, a young man and her little girl all prepped up for what they took to be prom leading her to burst into a massive set of giggles.
It did take a little fix - like a bit of correction in the makeup, a final touch to the hairdo and getting Ruhi's outfit straightened out without ruining the effort of her brother and father - not because she needed any of it, but because Ishita needed to feel like she was a part of all this even if it meant that that she had to keep away the dress she spent all morning purchasing, the outfit she pictured for her baby girl locked away at the back of her mind and the envy she felt on mising out. And the fact that she had to handle Raman grumbling and stealing promises from Ruhi of a Daddy-Daughter date this weekend. Who would have thought that Adi and Raman would bet on who would take Ruhi to her kindergarten prom? But they did.
"Technically, he should have handed this over to me. He still had her high-school prom. Dad's aren't cool anymore when that one comes," grumbled a visibly sad Raman moments after Ruhi left arm-in-arm with Adi.
"You know she's going to have her own boyfriend, or guy, when that comes around right," sighed Ishita as she leaned in and hugged her husband.
"Like hell she will, she's not attending anything with any boy," grumbled Raman who ironically tried finding his way around Ishita's waist.
"Raman," scowled his wife.
"I think I'm done with daughters," sighed Raman. "Having one makes my hair turn white, imagine more."
"What are you talking about?" scowled Ishita wide-eyed as she pushed Raman away, gaining his trail of thought. He was up to no good, her husband.
"I'm just saying..."
"Oh, no. You're not saying anything," giggled Ishita as she walked away followed by an overly eager lover who wanted to have his way with her clearly talking advantage of the absence in the house.
Who said dates didn't take careful planning?
"When did you learn to use makeup?"
"I know everything, Madrasan, everything,"
"Wow, really,"
"Why don't I show you?"
"Why don't you get all the war-paint off yourself?"
"Why don't you help me?"
And with that he pulled her into the shower with him, his touch tickling her yet leaving her with a soft set of jitters as she dissolved into light laugher and mushy goo to her husband's not-so-closet romanticism.
- - - - - - - -
No PM's sent. This was written in an hour coz I was having a bad day. Excuse the errors.
At every given moment we have two choices - to be a decent human being or an asshole. If you're the latter, then please keep your bullshit to yourself and save me from losing the little respect I have for you. Words can't be taken back and once hurt, forgiveness, even if given, does not change the influence your words have had. So, write carefully. And think before you do. Some of us to take things to heart even when we swear that we don't.
Title credits to SA1234. Thank you. (Two Men and a Baby.)
Please comment to keep post up in the title.
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