A breezy monsoon morning and I have a blind date. As I walk up to bungalow number 49, I mull over the name—Mikhail, angel in Arabic. God, I tell myself, is on my side. So I overlook the trio of leashed dogs (my only precondition for the date), push open the door and stare into a pair of mischievous eyes and an endearing smile. “Hi,” I greet him. Mikhail Imaan Poonawala, all of two, is caught unawares. “Horsh,” he reciprocates, showing off his four-foot-high toy horse.

Er, does that mean he’ll take me for a ride? In inverse proportion to my anxiety are the beatific smiles on the faces of Zubair and Vanessa Poonawala, Mikhail’s parents. It’s not everyday that harried parents find anyone volunteering to baby sit their tyke—and for free. “Today is our wedding anniversary and we plan to go out for a movie,” they say. Goodbye and good luck to me! Soon, mom and dad are gone. I’m left alone with Mikhail and three growling, but thankfully, still leashed dogs. First step to wooing little prince: a slice of dark chocolate pie. Never fails. There, see him grin in glee. This should be a piece of cake. “Horsh”, he commands again. What does that mean? “Horsh”, he insists, looking at me. Oh, I see, he wants me to canter for him. There is no option but to offer him a ride on my back. The joyride lasts for three rounds of the rather large living room till he discovers three stools. He turns them over, peers inside and within minutes has squeezed himself inside. He looks rather cute. Will he sit there for the next two hours, I wonder hopefully? Will it start snowing in Sahara? In precisely 20 seconds, he lets out a shrill scream, “Gula dumih cugli…” Sorry? “Gula dumih cugli ,’’ he reiterates.

... contd.