And now with immense pleasure I invite my dear friend Sakshi Nanda. Our friendship began with a post on Indiblogger. I don’t remember which one of her amazing posts had caught my fancy but I knew that I had found a star as a blogger.

When my first leibster found way, it was Sakshi who figured out in my ten list. And I am happy to say that out of all the accolades that came her away after, mine was the first. 

Sakshi is a proud mother of an amazingly adorable son who finds quite a few mentions in her blogposts much to our liking. And yes what I adore about her besides the writing of course is that she is a feminist who happily claims that taking care of her family is an important element of her life. I love this woman to the core for her views, write ups and her happy go lucky attitude towards everything. 

And today it came to my notice that her blog “Between write and wrong” is in the top ten parenting blogs of India. Here’s wishing her many more successes for future.

Now I hand over the baton to Sakshi herself, who has on this Children’s day combined with my “I Travel” theme conjured a hilarious post. I am very sure you will have a constant smile, dotted with a lot of laughs all through the read.

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I am flying
high, as the teeny TV before me tells me. A tiny plane over a lot of green and
blue. I am comfortable and snug, and enjoying my thoughts in those moments between
wakefulness and sleep.A little tired. So much to see and do, so much to say
when you are a baby in the air. Ever since I entered the plane …

There she stood,
with her hands as if in prayer. Big eyes made bigger with a black sketch pen.
My box of crayons on her face, but how pretty she looked. I grabbed my mom’s
hair, wanted her to look too. She held my hand tight and shoved it down. ‘Spoil not my bun! You brat!’ I looked
away, and back at the woman in red, with a red cap. Extended my hand. She
smiled. Lovely! She pulled my cheeks, which in other circumstances I mind. But
here, oh, just divine. And there my mommy again, to take me away – ‘Come, dear baby’ and off we went into a long
room, where everyone seemed to notice me, the only baby in the plane. Did I
sense discomfort? Oh, must be my imagination.

The red riding
hood was forgotten.

Why, there was
so much else to be had!

Just sit still for a bit, will you?’ she
went. But why should I? My seat, my space and my time. Buttons on the armrests
and my own TV. Books? My fairy stories? I was over-whelmed. Press press press
and ‘Stop that! You will spoil the
and what is that? I can see my face in the metal of this belt. Aa
aa oo oo. I just showed myself my own tongue. How cool the buckle feels to taste.
Lick lick! ‘Sheesh, you dirty child.’
And they put me
on the side, as they manage the big bags. The biggest is mine, by the way.

Window. I bang!
Open it open it, let me fly my hands. Is that my toy truck down there? I want
it too. I drool with pleasure. Dribble too. A tiny little pond I see on the
window. Expecting a fussy mommy cleaning it with tissue, I hide it with my
hands. Spread it. Check my hands. Oh how they shine! Let’s make one more. Here
is comes and … ‘Oops! Look what he did.
Now where did I keep those wipes, you dirty pig

Sanitized, I sit
in the middle. My hands smelling nice, but not shining anymore. Belted. And idle.They
sit on my two sides. There goes the window. There goes the view. The pool. The

Now, what is a
little baby in the air to do?

I know – poo-poo!

I think he has done it, already. I can smell
it. Before they get the drinks, would you just go change him, honey?
’ and
daddy picks me up, carefully avoiding my bum. So serious he looks, as if he
doesn’t do poo-poo. Oh my, buttons on the roof. I kick in delight. With both
hands up, my fingers press press press. And lights! This bus is such a delight.
Calm down, baby’ he says. Who, me?
But it’s you who sweat so, daddy.

And here she
comes. The red one. I called her? She wants to help? Oh let her, please. I am
sure she knows about diapers ‘L’. Even has wipes. I will cooperate. Be a good
boy bum. Let her oh let her. ‘Im sorry,
he’s just so shifty. Called you by mistake. Sorry!
’ What? Shifty? What does
that mean? Call her back. Please. And I wail. ‘Hurry, will you, honey?’ and off he scoots to a small loo. Do not
ask how he managed but he did, I tell you. Saw no water in this pool. Sounded
strange too. Finally, we both breathe. Out!

Re-sanitized, I
sit in the middle again. Idle hands but mind abuzz. What’s next?

What would you like for breakfast?’ said
a red man. Who was he and where is she? I see bread and jam. Pancakes too.
Yoo-hoo, and giggle-giggle. ‘Sweet baby’
he says but if only it was her. Hands me a sweet. Like, is that all? Lays the
table. There’s too much here to touch and taste. So many colours so many
shapes. I get excited.So? I am only human. I see forks and plates and I think
music. Clangy-bangy-tangy-doo, shake the glass and drop the spoon. ‘What has gotten into him today, seems so
’ And they need to wonder? Why, I’m a baby in the air. Inside
a flying bus.

But what’s
rolling in my tummy?


Wail! Wail! ‘He’s hungry, we’ll need warm water.’
Sob-sniff-sob-sob and stop. I see the red one with a steaming glass. Are you here
to take me for a round? Show me the clouds, the planets, the sun, the moon?
What blue on top of the eyes, what pink on the sides. Pick me pick me, please.
And I stretch my arms. But I wail in vain! ‘It’s
coming, food’s coming, shush will you? Oh my darling one!
’ There a steaming
cup of water, and my Cerelac. I call it baby mush. She looks at me and says
something, with her red cap. Sounded like ‘ole ole ole’. Could she be Spanish?
I know not! I care not! I make a huge pout. Out comes a bubble and I blow it
big. She laughs and laughs and laughs. ‘That’ll
be all’
says daddy and there the bubble burst. Off she goes, on comes the
bib, a toy for distraction, and it’s all in now.

Burp! The sound,
why does it need to be excused? Look at my mommy’s face. Such glee when it
comes. Like a ‘well done!’ I make a
mental note. Before showing my maths scores, I will burp my way into her heart.

Baby in the air,
what is to be done next? All this glucose in the blood!

Why, let’s stand

I stand on my
seat and peep backthrough the space between the chairs.
Someone does a ‘twinkle twinkle little star’with their hands. Why? Predictable
humanity! I try to smile. Make her happy. Another is making his mouth fill up
like a balloon. Again, what’s with you, people? What am I, 2 months old? In
sheer boredom I let out a scream. The bald pate behind me wakes up from his
dream. Of hair, I assume. Gives me a glare. I give him a scream, and leave a
pool of spit on his Chetan Bhagat. I don’t bother to rub it off this time. I
let it remain. Serves him right, for that glare and for that book.

Sit down, we’re going to land now, baby.
Dada house is here!
’ and joy. Dada house is here. I suddenly hear a lovely
voice in the air. It must be her. Red Riding Hood. Belt, she said. She likes my
belt? I look at it. I have none on. Perhaps, she was dropping a hint, so others
don’t catch it. The red one…

And the TV
screen goes off with a blur. I am floating on pink clouds. No, red ones. I’m
going down. Is this the moment of truth, the day of love? ‘And we are here. Dada will love to see you!’ after much ado, we
stand in a queue.The plane landed?Why, I must have been asleep after the ‘sit down!’ The last I checked the plane it
was still flying high on the green.

I could see her
by the door. The red cap. I was floating towards her. Gliding. High in hopes. No,
the plane has not landed. By God, it’s only soaring!


What was that in
my ear?

Wail! Wail! I
think my ear drum burst. Wail! What was that? ‘Oh sweetheart, come here. Did mommy forget to plug your ears?’I’m
deaf, most certainly I am. I cannot even recognize my own mommy’s voice. Or
wait. Who is this I see? Whose arms and whose red shoes near the exit door? I
stop crying. Blue on top of eyes and pink on the cheeks. She rocks! I sleep.
No, swoon. Swoon.

And give her my best
gummy smile.She shows me her pearly whites…

As I sit on my
potty-seat today, toilet trained and more grown up, I think back to that 8th
month. I make a mental note. I will write a book one day. ‘Babe in the Air’ it
shall be called.

And I think you
know why!
(The baby in both pictures is the little kid we love to read about in all of Sakshi’s posts!!)
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