The flight is boarding. The last five years have been so hectic...they have just flashed by, with no time to breathe, feel, think or reflect. He likes it this way. He likes his mechanical, ghost like existence. He believes it to be his "survivor's instinct"....he prides himself as a survivor. He prides himself on his detachment, his ability to "let go" and this fast paced life is his elixir. The whirl of activity is his haven, keeping his mind occupied is his obsession.

He moves on in the queque.....he has been to so many places now.....Amsterdam, Berlin, Prague, Paris, New York......yes, last five years have been busy. He is so used to traveling, and traveling alone....that he almost forgets that she is with him. She reminds him to keep the boarding passes ready.

 He looks at her. She has aged, she looks so different. Her face is still serene as before, but wistful now. Her hair has started greying near her temples. The laughing lines near her mouth are still there though her brow has started showing worry lines. Yes, she too has changed.....after all, she needed to survive as well. She smiles at him and he smiles back...mechanically. They are a silent couple, an island in the sea of chatter, at the Delhi Airport.

 They board the plane and take their seats. The flight crew is completing their routine before the plane takes off....the usual round of toffees, safety instructions, incessant smiles and tutored customer service. Plane takes off and he closes his eyes to catch a nap.....after all, Mumbai is not that far. It has been five years since he last traveled to Mumbai. Inspite of him, the memory of that last flight invades his mind. He tries to fight it but in the end gives it up....just to glimpse that beautiful, angelic face with the brightest smile again in his memory.

 It was five years ago.....same flight, but then, there were three of them. Husband, wife and their beautiful two year old girl. How eagerly was she anticipated....how dutifully they had prepared for her. Lamaze classes, books, videos, endless shopping to spruce up the nursery.....everything that would make their baby feel special, wanted and loved. He had driven like a manic on roads when the water broke. He was with her in the delivery room....he was her breathing guide, after all. He had almost fainted on seeing the blood, inspite of all the pre-delivery bravado. And when he saw his baby's head crowning, he had squealed like a little boy. He held the baby first....she was so tired and weak, they had handed him the baby. When he saw that dirty, bloody, red-faced howler, he felt more vulnerable than the new born. He promised to protect her and love her like only a Dad can. All the years of infertility, the betrayal by his body, the cost and chances of IVF mattered no more....the center of universe was his little daughter. How she was welcomed by the assorted grandparents, uncles and aunts!!

 Then the nightmare began...when she turned blue in her crib on her first week birthday. First it was her heart, and then lungs and kidneys that gave way, as his precious daughter became the sickest baby in the ICU. How they urged her to fight, they would fight with her, she fought on, how they comforted or hoped to comfort her through their voices, touch, lullabies! Life was a blur of hospital visits, operations....for two years....but they were at least hopeful days. They had traveled to Mumbai with their baby, five years back, for yet another expert opinion, a hopeful operation. He was a great believer of modern science...surely, they could save his little daughter. When her little body succumbed, she took all that faith, love and hope with her.

 He awoke with a start....he could never go beyond the last hospital visit. He could never ever go over the funeral...her little body wrapped, her face so serene. He had locked his heart, forbidden it to feel any more.  

 He remembered the muffled screams, the angry fists beating on his chest as she took out her pain, her loss, her anger. He remembered how she had collapsed in the chair, as if there was no more any reason for her, to ever get up. He remembered how she could not sleep or eat. He remembered how he feared losing another. He remembered how he had to be the Man, the rock she could lean on.

 Then life took over....people in love say that they will die for each other, but they decided to live for each other. They created their own world. They never spoke of the loss too much. They just carried on living, surviving each day.

 Till six months back, when she spoke about a little baby girl who needed a home, who they might be able to bring home. She had been tentatively checking with some adoption agencies, checking if, at their age, it was possible to take on the responsibility. She told him about the little girl....he refused to dream again, he refused to open his heart again. But he had looked at her and for her sake, had agreed to all the effort and paper work. They had been careful this time. No shopping spree, no joyous announcements or celebrations. They had braced themselves for it not working out. They would not hope again to be disappointed.

Two days back, the letter had come with the photo of a grinning, toothless baby. She was healthy, active and completing her milestones. This girl was to be their daughter, it said. Of course, they could pick any other baby if they wanted. He had found this ridiculous....pick a baby??!! Did they understand that babies were a gift, not a sale item? Did their professional perspective blind them to the real joy of parenting a baby?

 This flight is quite similar to the last one....apprehension of losing, hopefulness to dream another dream, desire for a new beginning, gratitude for another chance. But he knows this one is different as well. This time, he will have his little daughter with him, when he flies back. The tears start to roll down, he does not bother to hold them back. He cries. He looks at her. She is crying too....she understands. And they cry together, holding hands, a couple, soon a family to be.