Cosmo tells me that it is my clock ticking away. possible and probable. but am yet to discover where this clock is. i sit in the loo ( the only place in mumbai where u can hope for some semblence to silence) and try to trace any faint tick-tocks but no success till date.the only sounds were the strains of dhoom 2 from the neighbours abode.and as i have been unable to detect this timekeeper and in turn plug out its batteries, i continue to gawk at babies.the moms at first smile with pride at the obvious envious green tinge of my face at beholding ther perfection of their bundle of joy.but as i continue to look wistfully at their cradles, vague thoughts of baby snatchers' stories make the smile fade a little. the unease builds and determinely they shift the kid onto the other shoulder and sweep away.The dads intially love the attention that playing the sensitive metrosexual man ( the type of men, that the mags tell them, handles babes with the competence of a mid-wife) gets them.30 secs into the stare - hmm she is checking me out under the guise of cooing over the baby!well obviously! why not! i am secure and confident enough to let the pooh bear diaper bag hang off my shoulder!
10 mins into the stare - the babe is still looking.nice going man!u still got it.wonder where the missus is?
15 mins into the stare - ok the woman is fixated on my shoulder.did the kid dribble there again.where is the wife?
20 mins into the stare - that crazy b#$%h is stalking me.where is my cell?
by that time panic has set in and they head straight to the parking lot.
and all this time i just keep gazing at the pooper, wondering what the plump cheeks and rotound bottom would feel like in my arms.
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