Instincts

Humankind might have evolved a bit more than our terrestrial quadruped co-habitants, as in, we use silicon based instruments more than carbon based ones. But, at the end of the day, we are still guided by instincts.

Fight or flight.

When I see kids, my instincts compel me to scare them.

Scare them for good.

That could be an extension to my misanthropy. After all, kids, no matter how small, are still people. Or could be brilliant planning, because I don’t want to, somewhere down the line, fight with or run away from these kids. My talent has been put to good use to silence crying kids (I can see new parents nodding) or make quiet kids cry (I can still see you nodding, new parents). Had there been a Six Sigma certification for scaring kids, I would have been The Grand Master Black Belt for I have never failed.

Till yesterday.

My workplace is a good two hours away from my dwelling. Thankfully, a single train covers the maximum part of it. That ensures I can absorb a book, watch the world pass by or just nap. Yesterday, while returning home, a small family arrived and arranged themselves around me. Large grandmother, medium mother and an angelic four-year-old girl (small, of course). The mother takes a seat in the front, with the kid on the lap. The granny sat next to me, gladdening me instantly since
1. There was no room for fourth seat
2. The kid is right in front of me and I could have some practice

The kid, for reasons best known to Him, insisted on sitting next to me. Of course, she got her way, what with kids these days. The first thing she did was stamp on my highly polished shoes. Then she started swinging her little legs, leaving muddy marks on my beige trousers. This went on for around ten minutes, and I could not sleep due to the constant disturbance. Then I realized she was looking at me; I looked at her, she flashed her i-am-cute-so-you-are-supposed-to-bear-wth-me smile. I bared my big canines and the little one recoiled, and sat motionless for some time during which I fell asleep.

About half an hour later, with a particularly violent jolt, I awoke and checked if the kid was the cause. She was fast asleep.

Good job done.

I went back to Slumberland. After an hour or so, when I opened my eyes, I saw the kid snugly ensconced between my right arm and my side. Her little hands were around my tummy. My left hand was holding her head, preventing it from being swayed by the train’s motion.

If she was asleep earlier, she was cosy and asleep now.

How did this happen? That too, to The Grand Master Black Belt in scaring kids?

I vaguely remember some tugging at my arm and me raising it, but apart from that I recollect nothing. Logically, the kid must have felt the cold draft coming through the train window. Guided by the primal instinct to seek warmth, her sleepy brain must have sought it at the nearest place, the Uncle (sigh!) with big canines. The one who had given her a fright some time back.

Being just a kid, she is forgiven that she forgot.

My sleepy brain must have commanded my right arm to be raised and allow the leg-swinging, polished-shoes-stamping, beige-trouser-muddying kid with the i-am-cute-so-you-are-supposed-to-bear-wth-me smile to be accommodated. And my left arm deliberately left its place to support her head. And remained there so that her fragile neck muscles not be jerked.

What contradictory instinct prompted me?