The bliss of attaining equilibrium

The event for which I had been pining came finally to pass on Wednesday when I had a fun-filled time in the presence of loved ones. It felt like my first real holiday since motherhood

I had one of those rare moments of equilibrium on Wednesday afternoon as I floated in the pool at the site of our staycation in Goa. I revelled in the feeling of weightlessness as I closed my eyes and set my body adrift, the upper part of my body basking in sunlight while the rest was submerged in cool water. I could sense the anxiety leaving my body through my skin. What had I to worry about? Our child was lost in his siesta. My partner was guarding his sleep and could simply call out to me if I was needed. The apartments surrounding me were occupied by my family. I let the ease sweep over me. My niece was in the pool with me, and we either chatted or floated soundlessly together. It was pitch-perfect. For the first time since he was born, I was using his nap time not just for leisure but to ‘have fun’.

I have been having so much fun, because finally, the event for which I had been pining, has come to pass. I have been reunited with my family who are all now finally acquainted with the newest member of our little D’Mello clan. I’d felt privileged to have alone time first with my brothers and their family in Dubai, then with my parents in Goa, and then with my sister and my brother-in-law before all of us began to occupy the same space. It’s the first time we’re choosing to stay in a resort instead of at our home. This was our way of ensuring we could have as much fun as possible without getting into housework and chores. There’s a celebratory vibe to everything. Even my mother making chai on the hot plate in the morning. In the evenings, after our child is asleep, I can spend time with everyone and indulge in a single malt.

Also Read: The in-between space

It feels like the first real holiday I’ve had since motherhood. Even though we’ve travelled to small-town Italy or have spent a day at a spa. Even though my child clings to me a lot as he negotiates his relationships with all the people he’s only otherwise known through video calls. I’m having fun because I don’t have to have my attention fixed on him at all times. There are other loved ones who share the load. I don’t have to worry about organising our meals. We’re all taking care of each other and there’s never a food shortage. I’m enjoying having a routine that involves only making decisions about whether to go to the beach or the pool, and whether to have a beer or a shandy.

The most profound joys are the ones I have felt watching our child rejoice in the presence of water. I watch him anticipate the waves and squeal as the surf bunches around his feet, or when he is washed away by a wave and he laughs at the sensation of sand being a holding ground. There’s possibly nothing unique about his interaction with the beach, but because we have been waiting so long to witness this first, every gesture feels weighed with happiness. I watch him watch everyone and delight in being in the company of so many of us. He is discovering that there is a world outside of Tramin, a world peopled by so much extended family.

As you read this, we will have commenced our celebrations of our parents’ golden jubilee wedding anniversary. This was the reason our family decided to conglomerate in Goa. This was why we chose this time of mangoes to return. By Sunday we will already be back in Italy. But I’m not thinking about that yet. I’m choosing to locate myself solely in this here and now and be present and immerse myself fully in it and feel one with it. I’m excited to witness my parents renew their vows and feel sentimental about it. We’ve organised a small dinner later for close family and friends of my parents and I am eager to celebrate every second of our togetherness.

I wonder what it will be like to return after feeling relieved of this pining for home, to know I can return whenever time and finances permit. I am trying to hold onto this feeling of equilibrium, the sound of crashing waves, of my sister-in-law’s laughter, of the stickiness of kokum, the tenderness of pre-roasted cashew and the refreshing glow of coconut water. I am trying to contain all the memories that have not been coded onto photographs, not recorded for easy viewing, all the intangible things that cannot be accommodated in a suitcase.

Deliberating on the life and times of Everywoman, Rosalyn D’Mello is a reputable art critic and the author of A Handbook For My Lover. She tweets @RosaParx

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The views expressed in this column are the individual’s and don’t represent those of the paper

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