It was Sunday. He wanted to cook his favourite Chicken Lonvas (an East Indian preparation). There, in the sweltering heat, he stood shirtless in his favourite nylon shorts, sweat trickling down his huge belly. Crushed garlic turning brown, onions turning translucent. His senses were indulging in the sights and scents of his culinary skills, it was easy to miss those tiny feet that tiptoed into the kitchen.
She looked on curiously as he stirred his dish with passion, and finally broke the silence.
“What you’re doing, dada?”
“I’m making food beta!”
“Dadaaaaa, I wanted to ask you something. Why is your stomach so big? You have babies inside?”, she asks… stifling her giggles.
He looks down at her, with a straight face. “Of course, you didn’t know?!?”
It was her turn to get serious now.
He nods his head, in a very matter-of-fact manner.
“What rubbish!!!”, she starts giggling again.
“Come here. Put your ears to my stomach. You will hear kittens going ‘meoowww meowww'”, he said.
“Kittens!??” It didn’t take her long to press her ears against his tummy. She giggled as she heard rumbling. And then the mewing.
“Meow… Meow… can you hear it? He asked, with a broad grin.
She knew he was making the sounds. She looked up at him, laughing heartily, amazed at all the crazy things her dad did for her. His eyes crinkle as he takes in the most real, most heart-warming moment he’s had all week.