I was not a writer, not even in my own fantasy.

I used to think that wielding a pen in style is not my forte. I'd rather read what others gifted with the pen dish out for hungry minds like mine.

My parents---doting and quintessential blind believers in my talent with the letters---tried hard to motivate me to write about, ahem, something---anything. Where my parents' lifetime's endeavor has failed to lead to fruition, my son's five and a half months' existence has achieved almost instantly, that too without even trying. Such is the power of these little beings!

I am now a staunch believer of the saying that "good things come in small packages".

Before my son’s birth, I used to think that I was living a ‘well-balanced’ life, and the decision to add a child to the equation was more of a calculated one, typical of a ‘career woman’ responding to the ticking biological clock, than a dewy spontaneous one. I had the notion that I should be the one at the helm of things, calling the shots, after the baby is born. After all, I am an educated, self-aware, mature woman, and the baby would be a newborn entirely dependent on us for his very existence.  Little did I know that I was in for the surprise of my life!  In a silent coup, my son has taken over the reign. From day one of his arrival, my son has been manipulating four adults (us and his grandparents), and ‘dancing to someone else’s tune’ doesn’t even feel bad to any of us! It can easily be some budding MBA’s dissertation topic: ‘How CEOs of visionary enterprises can learn a thing or two about power and control from the newborns’.

My son is only five and a half months old, but I feel like I have already cruised through so many phases --each replete with its own nuances --of parenthood, aptly guided by my son.

The first phase is definitely appreciating the adaptability of humans. I distinctly remember the desperate throbbing of my son --totally reluctant to let go of the cozy familiar darkness of my womb that he had learnt to know as his home for nine months --when the good doctor was bringing him out at the hospital. I remember him crying at the top of his little lungs to let the world know that he is not happy people are acting against his wish. But the very next morning, when I saw him turning his head slowly towards the sun coming through the hospital window and fixing his gaze in that direction, I knew he has already feeling quite all right with the world around him.

The second phase is rediscovering myself. Until my son’s birth, I could never picture myself doing a lot of things that I do now, and it feels like those are the most natural things to do.  I remember the first day after we came back home from the hospital with the baby, I woke up in the middle of the night, still sore from the remnant pain from the C-section surgery, just to marvel at my son’s and my husband’s sleeping faces, comparing their similarities. The surge of delight that I felt looking at the expression of peace on both their faces could not be compared to anything that I felt before.

The third phase is reconnecting with my spouse at an entirely different dimension, now that we share something so precious. Witnessing the evolution of the parental side of my husband has been such an endearing journey! My husband, who on one hand was planning to amuse our son with the gush of mist that comes out when you suddenly open the freezer, even before our son was born, and on the other hand was not so sure whether he wanted the kid to invade his sacred territory of home theater in the basement of our house, is now a transformed man. He would rush to the neighborhood pharmacy moments after reaching home from a very tiring transcontinental business trip, to get the cold medication for our wheezing son---a medication that I was not even aware of---a relatively uncommon medication approved for infants, which apparently my husband has learnt about while leafing through an issue of a baby magazine. I got free subscription of the baby magazines, but hardly ever find time even to look at them. I have never seen my husband reading them either! I guess becoming a parent makes your memory much more receptive and retentive. Even a cursory look at something that interests you comes back to you at the right moment.

I could go ad infinitum talking about the million little phases.

As a whole, I can definitely say that parenting has freed us up from acting stereotypically. We have become experts in improvisation, have learnt to see the brighter side of situations, and have learnt to be flexible.

The greatest gift our son has brought us is that he has given us a chance to return to innocence. Becoming a parent has taught us that life’s intricacies seem a lot simpler when you have a fresh pair of eyes and ears.

Perhaps this is the only topic that could bring out the ‘writer’ in me!