Babies’ Day Out – Part 2

Everything happened so quickly. Within two weeks, my resignation process was completed and I was out breathing fresh air. Well, freedom comes with a price. The next thing I knew, I was neck deep in work, setting up the day care centre. My loan was approved. All of my close buds were helping me as much as they could, evenings on weekdays and almost whole weekends. It was obvious to my parents how much effort I was putting into this. They were just being silent spectators, waiting like the calm before the storm to pounce on an opportunity.

After much thought and deliberation, I decided to name the centre Blossoms. I stood there, in front of the spacious third floor apartment I had rented, absorbing the outcome of almost a month’s toil. It looked perfect. Dad had come once and taken a stern look around and left with a nod. Mom wouldn’t hear of it.

‘Kids are gonna love it’, I said.

‘Yeah, but it’s more important they love you, don’t you think?’ That was the ever practical Renu.

‘Yeah I know’, I turned to look at her. ‘I will do it, whatever it takes. I will show them that whether they like it or not, I am right every now and then.’ My eyes must have shown what I felt, for she backed a little.

‘Whoa! Easy, tiger. You’ll do it. I believe you’, she smiled. She always knew the right things to say to make me feel better. And she said that I did too. I was not too sure of that, but I would not know what I would do without her holding my ground.

‘Ok. The stage is set. Now, the strategy…’ I began.

‘Yes, yes. We’ve heard ‘The Strategy’ a thousand times. The brochures and pamphlets are ready. Nod and we’ll take care of the rest’, said Vinya, another of my guardian angels. It is things like these that assure me that I haven’t been all bad, because otherwise I would never have been blessed with such wonderful friends.

Phase two of ‘The Strategy’ was in full swing. The group had officially named it that. We had done all possible advertising that we could with the budget, and Nitin, our ‘marketing strategist’ had even gone around to a few places explaining it to people. ‘I can make cow buy milk. Don’t worry guys’, he had said.

Now all we had to do was, wait, for mothers who were willing to take to risk of sending their precious kids to a whole new place. We had announced the details of our opening date, and we were all there, waiting…

‘Do you think we should go for lunch?’ asked Renu. It was almost noon.

I looked at them. They had all waited patiently with me since morning. I couldn’t do this to them. ‘You go ahead guys’, I said. ‘I’m not too hungry.’

‘There you go again, showing your worry on your food. You come or we wait. C’mon, do you want to bear the sin of making so many poor, hungry souls wait?’ Did I say Renu knew what to say to make me feel better? Well, she also knows what to say to get me all chafed.

‘Ok, ok’, I said getting up. ‘I’ll come.’

‘Excuse me, is this the Blossoms day care centre?’ came the voice from the doorway.

My heart was beating so fast I thought it would jump out any second.

‘Yes it is. Please come in’, I said putting on my best smile.

She looked to be about thirty. I was guessing she probably had two kids, the elder one three or four. She came inside and just looked around for a few minutes. I didn’t disturb her. I let her take it all in. A mother was allowed to know what she was getting her child into. I may sound hypocritical here, but I never stopped my parents from knowing. If they wanted to, I always complied.

The apartment was spacious. It had a small shoe room that led into the biggest hall I had ever seen. That in itself served the majority of the purpose. I had converted it into a play area. There was a small slide on one corner, and lots of toys all over the place, neatly arranged. Building blocks, trucks, cars, soft toys for the quiet girls… you name it, it was there. I had carpeted the entire floor to avoid injuries caused by a hard fall. The walls were painted with those cute Disney paints with cartoon characters jumping and skating here and there.

She moved into the next room. Apart from the hall, the apartment had three big bedrooms, two with attached bathrooms, a separate bathroom and a kitchen, which was spacious enough if some of the kids decided to run around there. I had converted one bedroom into a library of sorts. It had copies of all the famous fairy tales, comics, colouring books, stationary… you get the drift, lining the walls. I had placed small tables and chairs around the room. The bedroom served its original purposes. Having beds was out of the question. Instead, I had purchased some small quilts and mattresses and a few pillows. The kids could use these to nap on the floor.

The lady inspected the bathrooms and kitchen and finally turned to me. ‘You run this place right?’ she asked.

‘Yes, ma’am. These are my friends. They are here to help me’, I said, the smile still in place, introducing everyone.

‘I’ve gone through the details in the brochure. I am fine with the fee. I like the place too. I have two kids. One four, the other two’, she said. Bingo! I should say I am already getting the hang of it. ‘I will be working from nine till five’, she continued. ‘Shall I start bringing the children from tomorrow? Is there any form that I should fill?’

That was a nice start. Slowly we had people coming in, if not on the very first day. I now had twenty kids to manage ranging from ages two to six. Everything was going fine, except I was having a difficult time taming the kids. My one-thing-at-a-time concept failed here. Every time I heard an ‘Anju aunty!’ it was almost always a scream than a mere call, which me run from one room to another. I had hired a maid to take of the kitchen chores and cleaning. Otherwise, it was pretty much just me and the kids.

‘What’s happening, Renu? This was supposed to be good. I was supposed to love doing it!’ I wailed over the phone one night. I had stopped four-year-old Anuj at the nick of time from falling into a huge bucket of water head-on that the maid had kept for cleaning that day. He had come there straight after helping three-year-old Roshan colour his face with sketch pens. I had only three months left until D Day. My parents still showed as little interest as possible, but always alert for news.

‘Relax’, she said. ‘You knew this was going to be tough. Remember your vow. Hang on. It’ll become better.’

My reply was just a grunt.

Continued...