Sleeping Partners

She cuddles close to me with her right leg on my tummy and her right arm snaking its way around my neck. I adjust a little to make myself comfortable, but my nearly-four-year-old is a determined boa constrictor.

“Amma, read.” She demands.

“As soon as I take your hair out of my mouth,” I sputter.

She chews a little bit of my hair to give me company.

“Okay. Here goes.” I read from her favorite Critter book. She laughs through the antics of Critter’s little sister and states that little sisters are naughty. I do not comment. Nowadays, there are too many “little sister” moments and I do not want to add to those.

I close the book and look at her. I see a layer of sleep falling over her eyes, but as I turn to switch off the table lamp, she blinks and perks up again.

“Amma, paattu,” she cuddles closer. Her breath on my neck is like a warm hug.

I begin my nightly rendition of Harivarasanam tunelessly but carefully lest I confuse the wordings. She likes to correct me and is ever vigilant to spot my mistakes. As I sing the beautiful verses quite discordantly, the melody which can put even a god to sleep starts to work on my little one. Her eyelids close despite a protesting mind and she sleeps, or so I think. When I end the song all out of breath, I hear her mumble again. “Amma, another song.”

I sing Auld Lang Syne this time around, as tunelessly, to the only one in the whole world who can enjoy my singing, and sleep listening to it too.

She wants more songs, she is not asleep yet. She whispers to me that her birthday is on Tuesday. I shh-shh her and sings her favorite omanathingal kidavo. Some time during all this singing, M slips under the blanket too.

When we finally doze off to the faltering strains of Irayimman Thampi’s lullaby, I momentarily feel suffocated. I feel sectioned off. My daughter’s arm is around my neck and almost suffocates me, while M’s left arm is heavy on my breasts, claiming them his own. My extremely territorial little girl owns the flat of my stomach and refuses to budge her leg even in her sleep. And M is the undisputed claimant of anything below my waist and he proves it with his heavy left leg sprawled across my hips and thighs. I squirm a bit. I feel suddenly itchy. I need to scratch my back. I need to turn to my side. I need a drink of water. I need to breathe. I need my freedom. I sigh. Finally, I give in to the bliss of being so totally and irrevocably owned.

PS: My daughter will turn four this Tuesday, on August 26th. She will be a big girl. She has promised us she will sleep in her own room once she turns four. She will cuddle her Fluffy and Appu, and Piku, her favorite penguin, and go to sleep all by herself. We tell ourselves that we will make her keep her promise. I shudder inwardly. I am not sure whether I am ready to be disowned.