My Million Dollar Princess

“The child must know that he is a miracle, that since the beginning of the world there hasn't been, and until the end of the world there will not be, another child like him.” Pablo Casals

My five-year old niece is here in India with us for a few days. Though every child is unique but I have never seen a child as different as she is. She started to show the signs of her individuality when she was as small as three. She knows what she wants, why she wants and how she wants. She is brilliant at whatever she does.

She is sitting next to me in a chair talking incessantly as I get ready to a party. She is quite fond of me that ways. It surprises me how a small kid like her can remember every detail of the time we spent together when she was only three. She often talks about those times whenever she calls from the US. Her little sister doesn’t know much about me. As a matter of fact, she is far too shy to pick up a conversation with anyone outside the bounds of her close family members.

She minutely observes every detail of my wardrobe and verbally makes a note of the changes it has gone through over the years. She is also fascinated by my stash of accessories. Her greenish purplish eyes sparkle as I take out a turquoise blue beaded necklace and put this around my neck. “This is so pretty!! May I please try this on once?” She exclaims. Since this is too big and a little heavy for her, I promise to get her a smaller one.

But she replies innocently, "Bua (father’s sister), how do I know whether it will look as good on me without trying it on?"

I said, "Hmmm! Makes sense honey, but be a little careful. Okay?"

She says, “Okay."

She puts on the turquoise blue beaded necklace, slips on her shimmery Cinderella shoes and catwalks around the house; I mean, literally placing one foot in front of the other like you see those models strutting the runway. Picture a waxen complexioned five-year cute little girl draped in an emerald green dress, her left hand is on her waist, her little handbag is dangling from her right forearm, she is looking straight ahead carrying the expression and the unfaltering attitude of a supermodel, of course with a naughty smile dancing around the corner of her lips, isn’t it too much for a five-year old?

“From where did you learn walking like this?”

“Duh! What’s there to learn about it?”

“Yea! that's your signature walk, huh?”

And she coyly scampers away.

*  *  *

She likes my strawberry pink lip balm, the one that resembles a red lipstick. She looks for it in my drawer but can’t find it so she gives in and finally asks me if I could let her see my lipstick once.

“Baby I don’t wear any lipstick generally, which one are you talking about?”

“The one I saw in the morning. It’s in red and you twist the base to open it.”

“Oh! That’s my lip balm. Here you go. But what will you do with it; your lips are pink already?”

“I like it. May I open this bua?”

“Let me open this for you. You might break it.”

“I will not. I promise. I didn’t break your necklace either. Remember?”

“Okay Honey! Take it.”

She opens the lipstick-looking lip balm, scrutinizes it to her satisfaction and then puts the cap back on. When she puts the cap back on, a feeble sound comes, “Kadak!!!”

She sticks her tongue out in embarrassment but she recovers quickly and utters “Happens bua!!”