The masked words

It was a big day for the family. The newest member had come home from the hospital. Every one surrounding the little baby was busy showering heaps of praises on her. Some said the shape of her nails suggest remarkable wisdom. Some said the way her lips quivered signifies a future nightingale. Every thing about the baby extracted some superlative from the family members. The domestic aid Malati too came rushing by. After managing to squeeze her diminutive frame through the tightly formed circle of family members she got a glimpse of the baby’s face. The baby contorted her face into some expression which Malati imagined to be a smile. Her heart filled up with joy. She too had become a mother three years back and ever since the sight of little babies aroused in her a sensation of boundless joy. “She is so pretty...she looks so similar to my baby,” she commented.

Sudden silence descended in the room.

The entire family swung around, their eyebrows knit in annoyance. How on earth could she compare the appearance of their beloved child with that of her own child?

The mothers in the room should have known that Malati had just given the child the biggest compliment that she was capable of…she had just called the child perfect.