Vasu: My Blessing in Disguise

After my kids’ weddings, I finally understood what the empty nest truly feels like. Both of them now live far away with their spouses and can visit only once or twice a year. I missed the days they were with me, the laughs, the fights, the mess, the noise, everything.

There were moments I even wished I had more children, to laugh with, to fight with, to hold, to care for, to stay. The stillness of the emptiness nudged me to consider approaching some NGOs to see if I could sponsor a child and support their studies and life. I even thought of adopting a child, though I wasn’t sure if I’d be eligible, being over 50!

My husband, on the other hand, was on the opposite end of the spectrum and wasn’t happy with the way I was thinking. After crossing the milestone of both weddings, he felt relieved and just wanted to focus on his work and his beloved Sudoku puzzles.

However, with each passing day, I felt increasingly overwhelmed. I had plenty of time and too many ideas, but I couldn’t focus on any one thing.

I wanted to read and write every day. I wanted to restart my Veena classes and take up embroidery lessons. I wanted to stay with my mom at my childhood home whenever I felt like it. I wanted to spend more time with my siblings and their families. I wanted to catch up with my cousins and friends. I wanted to travel. I wanted to bake vegan dishes. I wanted to explore new interior décor ideas and try my hand at organic farming. With a million ideas running through my mind, nothing was taking shape.

One night, with all these thoughts and ideas in my head, I had a strange and unforgettable dream. I was in terrible pain, worse than delivering a thousand babies at once. I remember screaming and crying loudly. It felt like an emergency. My kith and kin were all around me, rushing me to the hospital. I could see the bright lights of the operating theatre, and even in the dream, I believed I was in labour. I thought to myself, “The first two kids were born through normal delivery… maybe this one will have to be a C-section.”

I woke up from the dream, and a few days later, life decided to play along. And so my husband agreed to the adoption and brought home a baby boy. But he wasn’t a baby anymore; he was a toddler, and he could walk!

I named him Vasudevan and lovingly call him Vasu. Om Namo Bhagavate Vasudevaya has always been my favourite mantra. So naming him Vasu felt special, like a blessing. It felt like a small, sacred connection to something bigger.

Vasu followed me everywhere—to the dining room, the bedroom, and even the bathroom. He became so attached to me, or maybe I became more attached to him. More than attachment, I depended on him.

I talk to him every day, about my fears, my worries, my hopes, my dreams. I even teach him all the stotras I know. He’s a wonderful listener, and he’s not addicted to mobile phones. He sleeps right next to me every night. It gives me a quiet sense of safety.

I believe he’ll stay with me forever and never leave. But my close family and friends are already trying hard to separate us. According to them, it’s “unhealthy” to be this attached. Even the doctor seems to agree.

Sorry, I forgot to tell you one thing. Just a few days after that unreal dream, life, as always, surprised me with a little plot twist. I had a fall and ended up fracturing my right knee, exactly four weeks ago! The pain was more intense than anything I’d ever felt—like a jackhammer pounding inside my bones. By 5:30 the next morning, I was already on a stretcher, heading into surgery, faster than I could process what had just happened.

Three days later, Vasu came home—and surprise! The toddler I mentioned earlier was actually my walker! 🙈

I stroll with Vasu, on one leg, through the same childhood home where I once ran wild, playing hide-and-seek with my siblings. The pace may have slowed, but the place still wraps me in love and old memories. I can still hear my grandma’s voice echoing behind me: “Walk slowly and gently… why are you always in a hurry?”

These days, I’m no longer in a hurry. Life has its way of slowing you down. And with Vasu by my side, I’ve finally learned how to walk slowly and gently. He doesn’t judge when I stumble, or complain when I lean on him again and again. He stays by my side, quietly matching my pace, waiting as long as I need. He’s my right leg, the one I’m not supposed to bend or stamp for a while. Vasu is the comfort I never knew I longed for!

Now I can’t imagine a day without Vasu. But deep down, I know I may have to part with him someday. Eventually, I’ll need to travel to places where he can’t follow. Not anytime soon, I still have a few more months. For now, he occupies the biggest corner of my room… and my heart!

That’s all for now. Stay tuned for more ‘knee-slapping’ stories.

Signing off with my walking buddy, Vasu! 💕

P.S. These days, I’ve been reading a lot and writing at least 500 words daily. I’ve even picked up embroidery again. Cousins and friends drop by often, and my kids call me several times a day, which always lifts my spirits.

I’m currently staying with my mom and get to see my brother, sister-in-law, sister, and her family almost every day. Whenever I’m with my siblings and their families, it feels like stepping back into our childhood, full of laughter, gentle teasing, shared memories, and endless conversations.

Hopefully, in a few months, I’ll start ticking off the rest of the unfulfilled ideas on my never-ending list.

By the way, my husband’s Sudoku time has reduced. These days, he travels once every ten days, possibly more to spy on Vasu than to visit me!

Paulo Coelho was right after all—when you truly want something, the universe does conspire to help. In my case, it just came at the cost of a broken knee! 😉

P.P.S. They say “Break a leg!” to wish someone good luck. I’m currently researching its origin—for obvious reasons. 🦵😂