When I was born, relatives looked at me and always said, “Arey, ye toh same Saroj hain!” (“Arey, she looks exactly like Saroj!”) For those who do not know, Saroj is the name of my mother. Since birth, I looked like a similar albeit slightly unpolished version of my mother. And my mother in turn looked like her mother. So when the three of us, Nani mumma and I sit together, people can very easily guess that we are related and what’s the relationship. But with Baby Hashtag, it’s been different. Turns out she does not take take after me. The moment she was born, I was told (and retold multiple times after that) that she looks like her dad. Um okay, that’s cool I guess.
A daughter should be her daddy’s girl. As spoilt as can be, as princessy as he can handle. So what if she looks like her papa and nothing like me. I will not be superficial and say that I am not bothered by it. Of course I was. But I got over it in five seconds. I love that my daughter looks like the person I love, makes me want to stare at her all the more. In the morning, when both the father and the daughter are fast asleep, I sneakily open the curtain to let some light in so that I can stare at the two of them for a full two minutes. But anyway, this happens on days when I wake up before the husband and that rarely seems to be happening these days thanks to Baby Hashtag’s sleep regression.
That I am my mothers Xerox copy, is something I love. Also that my daughter is her father’s Xerox copy, is another fact I love. It’s a win-win, ain’t it?
P.S. Before anyone goes hyper grammar Nazi on me and point out that Xerox is the name of the company and it’s actually called photo copy, let me spare you the time. I know. I chose convenience over technicality just this once.