It was a corner flat on the top floor of a three-storey condominium allotted to me at an Air Force station in Uttar Pradesh, with its balcony offering us all but a grandstand view of the main road and the byroads branching off from it. People from our neck of the wood would get there to witness all the events of entertainment held in the playground on the other side of the road.
Being up with the lark every day, my missus would always be the first in our family of four members to open the entrance door and pick the newspaper lying on or close to the doormat. After having a cursory glance at the events on cricket matches played at various stadiums, as she was an avid fan of the game she would place it on a teapoy in the drawing room. Soon entering the room and sipping a tumbler of steaming coffee I would briskly leaf through the pages passing a quick glance over all the topical items of news before fixing my gaze at the editorial columns and reading them out and out.
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That day I was back at home by about 7am following a night duty. Following my matinal rituals like shave, shower and breakfast I was getting ready to return to my work spot by half past nine.
As I incidentally peeped out of the window a toddler, all of two years standing alone in the balcony of the adjacent flat, gripping the grills and prattling something espied me. In a trice, to my horror I noticed the tot squeezing itself out through the gap between the rods of the grillwork and dropping down. Eek! I shouted out, “Behanjee! Aap kee bacha balcony se girgaya” (Sister! “Your child fell down from the balcony”) bending over the grills and craning my neck towards the adjacent flat. Like a child with a caul in its pate the toddler landed safe into the fold of a sari that was hanging down in two layers from the upper balcony from where it was hung for drying.
Given the fold of the sari serving as a cradle, the tot had a miraculous escape from what otherwise would have been a fatal fall for it from a height of not less than twenty feet. The mother of the kid came descending the stairs at a lick, scooped it up swiftly in her arms and hugged it close to her bosom. It was by the sheer fold of the sari hanging loose at the lower balcony that the kid cheated a disastrous fall. Invoking all the Gods and Goddesses of all religions and all that she found good on earth she returned to her flat holding the bambina close to herself, affectionately stroking down its back and smooching it all over.
Twigging the fact that it was I who called her out of the house and drew her instant attention to the mishap she expressed me gobs of thanks.
The safety of her child from a perilous fall overwhelmed her with ecstasy and gave me an immense satisfaction.
