Sumitra was in pain. The labour contractions were just about
10 minutes apart and she knew it could be anytime now. But it wasn’t the
contractions that were causing the pain, this would be her third child and she
knew how the birthing process would be. Her pain was rooted in something deeper,
something more emotional. Having had two girls one after the other, she had
been under tremendous pressure to deliver a male heir to the family. If only
she knew how to magically beget a male child, it would all be well. Her husband
and in-laws had told her in no uncertain terms that if she had a girl child again,
she would have to fend for herself; they would never take her back. She let out
a loud scream. It was almost like a cry. Her sister-in-law assumed it was the
contractions, and gently massaged her hands and feet. Sumitra was just happy to
let out her anguish in a scream. She didn’t want to think what would happen a
few hours from now, if the child happened to be a girl.
The contractions were quicker now, and dai ma, the midwife, was encouraging her to push harder. Sumitra prayed fervently
for a male child, numb to the pain her body was experiencing right then. And
then she felt the baby gush out of her womb and let out a shrill cry. She looked
expectantly at her sister-in-law and at dai ma, as they cleaned the baby and
wrapped it up.
“It’s a girl, Sumitra,” announced her sister-in-law, like it was
her fault. She looked at Sumitra disapprovingly, before placing the child next
to her and exiting the hut.
Sumitra looked at her daughter, her eyes filling with tears.
She looked so beautiful. She ran a finger on the little one’s cheek, and heard
her gurgle. She struggled to get up as everyone just seemed to abandon her at
having delivered bad news. She sat up and held the child close to her bosom for a very long time. As she nursed the baby, she felt a surge of happiness run through her. Outside the thin wooden
door of the hut, she could hear her brother and sister-in-law fighting.
“If her husband does not come to get her, let her go to hell.
I don’t care if she decides to die, but she cannot stay here; let me make that
very clear. We have two mouths to feed; I cannot bear an additional four
mouths.”
“Where will she go? Don’t be so unkind to my sister. Let me
talk to kunwar-sa.”
A little while later, Sumitra heard her brother talking to her husband on phone.
“Kunwar-sa, don’t say such things…. Where will she go…..you
have two daughters…..yes, kunwar-sa, I understand….I have a suggestion…..”
Then she heard him talking to his wife again.
“Kunwar-sa has agreed to take her back, there’s only one
condition….”
Sumitra let out a deep sigh. Peace had been brokered between
the heartless husband and the hapless brother at the cost of her new born daughter. No one thought it fit to even ask her. As if she didn't matter, as if she didn't even exist. But what would she have said if they had asked her? What happened to Rukmini and Tejo when they refused to part with their daughters was like a folk tale in the entire village. Her sister-in-law had told her horrifying tales about them, how they were starving without food, being assaulted by unknown men, and in short, how their their life had turned into a living hell. God alone knew how they would raise their daughters all alone. She didn’t know where she would go with her daughters if she was thrown out. It would be better to sacrifice a child than make her other daughters beg.They needed a roof over their heads and food in their tiny stomachs.
No one really spoke to her about what she was supposed to do. She had heard stories of how little infants had been drowned in cauldrons of milk or fed ground seeds of cotton, so that they would choke on it. She wondered what they would do to her daughter.
She threw up at the thought of it.
The police were more vigilant now and killing an infant like that would complicate a lot of things. But that wouldn't deter her brother or husband from getting "rid" of the baby. They would find out a way. She thought
about it for three whole days. And then her decision was made. She regretted
making that decision, but that seemed the only way out of the whole mess. Moreover, it was her entry pass to her husband’s home.
The cold winter night had claimed several lives in the
village. She hoped it would claim her three day old daughter’s life too. She
would then raise a cry in the morning and no one would suspect that she had been
killed. The policemen would not suspect a thing. She removed every shred of clothing on the baby and laid its tiny bare body
on the charpoy in the verandah. She closed
the door and went inside and sat by the window waiting for the baby to breathe
its last. A tiny cry could be heard from time to time and then even that ceased
to be heard.
She didn’t know when she fell asleep, but when she woke up,
it was early morning, and the sun was still deliberating if it should cast its light over the darkness that had shrouded the village. She looked at the baby
from the window, and saw it had turned bluish-red from being out in the biting
cold. It wasn’t moving, it was probably dead by now. Preparing to scream and
alert the neighbors, she ran to the verandah and picked up the child. To her
utter shock, she heard the tiny heart beat, though faintly!
Her eyes filled with shame and remorse as she looked at her
little fighter. Here, her three day old daughter had almost fought off death,
and she wasn’t even capable of being as brave as her! She huddled her child to
her bosom and wept for a very long time. And with that another decision was made. And she knew she wouldn’t
regret it this time.
**********
(I heard this story at a satsang, and it really moved me...Reproducing my version of the story here, because I feel it might help someone take that one decision to square their shoulders, grit their teeth, but smile and face their fear.)
