The Unwanted Child and the Quirks of Destiny!

Aarti was weeping while she caressed her son’s hair. He was in deep sleep; rather made to sleep. Sleep was far better than the pain he had to endure. His stomach pain made his life awful. It was one of those rare illnesses that occurred and affected one in more than a million. He was however, not one in a million; may be in Aarti’s eyes but definitely not otherwise.

Aarti and her husband had brought him up with all the luxuries that they could afford. Her husband’s business had been flourishing. When they brought him up, they knew he would inherit the business and take it to greater heights. As he started growing older, he left very less doubt in their minds about him being the absolutely undeserving of the inheritance. He had given them fair share of troubles and very less joy in comparison.

Nonetheless, she stood by his bed hoping for his speedy recovery. The doctors had declared that his chances of surviving were bleak. She, being the mother, hoped against hope that some miracle would snatch her son from the jaws of death and put him back into her lap. Whenever any doctor or medical representative as well as some of her all-knowing relatives would talk to her, the name Dr. Jyoti would often crop up. She was the messiah Aarti required now as per her relatives.

Dr. Jyoti had been out of the country to attend a medical conference. She was one of the young achievers felicitated by the Chief Minister of the State recently for her noteworthy accomplishments in the profession. Though yet to reach 30 years of age, she was mature, wiser and as her colleagues would say “a gift to the medical profession”.

When Dr. Jyoti was contacted, she got the reports of the patient faxed to her hotel room and went through it at night. She was scheduled to land in the city in the next 48 hours. Dr. Jyoti’s talent was punctuated by her ethics and discipline. She knew that if the patient had to survive, she had to rush to the hospital from the airport and operate him in the wee hours of the morning itself.

While most doctors had given up, Dr. Jyoti was a rare kind. She had not given up on anything in life. She had her share of struggles but she fought through all of them bravely. She was an epitome of strength and endurance. She was sure that she would operate the patient and save his life. She conveyed the message to the doctors, who in turn conveyed to Aarti that her son would be operated on in the next 48 hours. Aarti had mixed feelings – happiness because Dr. Jyoti would try to treat her son and sad because the odds were heavily stacked against her son.

As Dr. Jyoti readied herself for her long flight back home and knew that she will have to rush straight to the hospital, she decided to call her favourite person in the world – her mother. An irresponsible father who left her when she was just six years old left the onus of her upbringing on Dr. Jyoti’s mother. She struggled hard to ensure that Jyoti’s education kept going. She aligned her dreams with Jyoti’s and worked hard to provide her all the support. Dr. Jyoti knew very well that her mother is instrumental in enabling her add the “very respectable” prefix to her name.

She told her about the serious case that had come up. She conveyed that she will reach home only in the afternoon, even though she would land in the city in the early hours of the morning. The telephonic conversation got over fast and Dr. Jyoti left for the airport.

Aarti spend the next 36 hours visiting various temples and offerings alms. She forced herself to believe that such good deeds would save her son. She was very tired at the end of the day but did not even think of sleeping. She was back to her son’s bedside. It made her very uncomfortable to see him writhing in pain.

It is in such helpless times that your conscience throws questions at you. Aarti was no different. She could still vividly remember the night around 30 years ago when she was pregnant. It was the only time she was pregnant. She was told by the doctors that she wouldn’t be able to conceive again. She and her husband knew that they wanted a “boy”. Of course, with her husband being the only son, the in-laws and relatives were also expecting a “boy” – the one who heralds the family legacy. They couldn’t even imagine a girl child coming into the house.

Aarti and her husband were doing well in life, even then. The hospital where she was to deliver was run by her friend. The nurses, doctors etc. were her good friends. While she was being admitted, she also saw a lady admitted to her adjacent bed. She knew this lady was a domestic help in her vicinity. She was illiterate and worked as a domestic help in various houses to make ends meet.

When both of them delivered and Aarti delivered a girl, she managed to bribe the nurses to get her child exchanged with the baby boy delivered by the maid. She was sure the maid was illiterate and could be tricked into believing that she had delivered a baby girl. And Aarti was right. The maid was happy to have the baby girl in her arms. Aarti took the baby boy home and all was well.

Since then, the incident was not something Aarti would recall often. Her brain however, remembered the incident vividly. She relived it today and was wondering what happened to the baby girl she actually delivered. Was it the curse of the baby that she was enduring now? Was her son’s bad behavior, poor academic record and drug addiction a consequence of her gory act?

She would have believed it was if her son would not have survived the next day. So, did he survive? As she was lost in thoughts with a forlorn expression decorating her face, she lost track of time. Dr. Jyoti had arrived. Aarti just stared at a beautiful lady; strikingly similar to her were Dr. Jyoti’s smile and eyes but she seemed to be much more confident and positive about her son’s chances of survival.

After a few reassuring words and an endearing smile, Dr. Jyoti walked into the operation theatre. The door closed behind her and a chill ran down Aarti’s spine. Will he survive?

Aarti just sat on the chair near the operation theatre. She was so lost that she did not even realize when she went off to sleep. When she woke up, she saw an old lady sitting besides her. She had a soothing expression on her face, as if she knew everything would be fine. As her vision became clear, she could recollect seeing this face. She just wasn’t able to tell.

And then she got her answer. She felt almost paralyzed. It was this very lady whose baby she had exchanged with her new born. She gently asked her, “Who are you?” The lady could have given the answer in a sentence but she chose to weave a story that took about an hour to complete. When she was about to finish, the door opened and out walked Dr. Jyoti. She headed to Aarti and said that her son was safe now. She offered her some advice on the kind of care that needs to be taken over the next few weeks. As soon as she finished, she hugged the lady besides Aarti, introducing her as her mother and they walked away.

Aarti was unable to speak. It slowly but surely dawned on her that Dr. Jyoti was her biological child, the child she didn’t want; rather the one she chose to let go in favour of someone else’s son.

The quirks of destiny taught her the most precious lesson of her life. She didn’t want this girl and it is she who stood by her in her most testing time.

There are many Aarti’s in our society today. Many who will willingly give away their girl if they could get a boy – to continue their family tradition, to keep the family legacy going. Of course, Aarti is not the only one to be blamed. There is immense family pressure on most of these Aartis.

Was Aarti’s decision to take a boy home worth it? Would she have not been the proudest mother today if she would be recognized as Dr. Jyoti’s mother? Our progressive country is plagued with female infanticide, feticides and even exchanging baby girls for someone’s boy.

It is better to get rid of this mindset as it will only lead to disappointments – Aarti being a case in point. 

The Best Birthday Gift!

She was waiting for this day for a long time. Most people live one-third of their lives in 25 years so it is not a short duration by any stretch of imagination. If we assume 75 years as the life span of a human being and split it into three phases, 25-50 (the second phase) would be the years when they find their calling, do something worthwhile and make an identity.

She was no different. From her teenage years, she used to teach students to make ends meet. However, it was not just a source of income. For her, the “joy” of enabling children to read, write and discover new things was above all. It was her nirvana.

A week from today, she will be entering the third phase mentioned in the first paragraph. So, has she made herself an identity? Has she found her calling? Well almost.

It was her dream, from as long as she can remember, to create an institution where learning is fun, where children feel they are playing and learning just happens as part of the process. The deadline that she had set for herself was a week from now – on her 50^th birthday.

However, her saving which she had gathered for over 25 years wasn’t enough. She spent on her family, her children, her siblings, their children, their marriages and other occasions. Through she rarely spent on herself, her selflessness towards the well being of her near and dear ones meant that she has not saved enough to create this institution - the school of her Dreams!

Her supportive husband helped her and so did her children with whatever they could. Her goodwill was such that the students she taught (who had become engineers, managers etc.) came forward helping with some money. Everything was in place but she wanted the school of her dreams to have all the facilities. And, she was sure she did not want to extract money in the form of donations and deposit to build this institution. “All help should be voluntary and from the heart”, she often said and would abide by it.

The situation as it stands now – a week to go and she required about 3 lakh rupees for ensuring the amenities she has in mind for the students who would attend on the first day at her dream school. She could have called a few of her students who were doing very well in life. They would have happily given the money but her self-esteem got the better of her.

Will she win the race against time? Will she be able to inaugurate this school on the said day? The students had already enrolled and for the students, she would settle for nothing but the best.

With five days to go, she decided to sell her gold and raise half the amount. She wondered where the remaining would come from. She couldn’t hear the doorbell ring twice as she was lost in thoughts. The doorbell’s non-stop repetition was symbolic of the impatience of the person at the other end. She quickly gathered herself and made her way to the door. She opened it and found a courier for her. The sender was from a village in Vijepur, Almora district, Uttaranchal. The sender chose to stay anonymous.

The person who bought the courier was getting impatient so she acknowledged the receipt. She closed the door and opened the envelope. What she saw surprised her to no end. A State Bank of India cheque of five lakh Rupees was staring at her. She was in Mumbai for more than three decades now. She had never been to North India. She had never heard of a village called Vijepur. Who was this anonymous sender and why would he send this amount? She peeped into the envelope once again to find a neatly written letter. It read

“

Respected Ma’am,

The school of your dreams will be a blessing to the students. They will grow into well-informed and educated youth that our country can rely upon. I have always wanted to contribute to the growth of my country and I am sure, this is one of the best ways. I wish to stay anonymous for some more time but I assure you that I will come and meet you soon. I wish you all the very best for this school and hope more people like you are born each year so that the world becomes a happier place.”

Yours obediently,

__________.

“

With not much option left, she decided to encash the amount and her school was set to roll a day before her 50^th birthday. True to her nature, she didn’t seek publicity by having celebrities or political heavyweights come and inaugurate it. Her 75 year old mother did the honours. She sought her blessings. Many of her students shared the proud moment. They had come from various parts of India and abroad to congratulate her on this very special day. She was overwhelmed but managed to stop her tears of joy from rolling down her cheeks.

She received the congratulatory messages, shake-hands and hugs from most of her students and when almost all of them were done, she saw a man in his late twenties. He was dressed in neat formals, well-combed hair and a glow on the face punctuated his appearance.

“Well done! Ma’am. I am very proud of you!” said the young man. She failed to recollect who he was but he helped her out of the emotional quagmire. I am Rajesh, son of Shivlal Yadav, the mali (gardener) near the public garden in your house. If you recollect, you saw my interest in getting educated and taught me for free. You taught me till the time I was here without charging any fee. You lent me books and taught me everything. You made me good enough to clear my class X exams.

It hurt my conscience bad that I couldn’t come to see you as I had to leave for my native place in a hurry. My mother was very ill and we had to leave overnight. When we reached our village the next day, she died. I couldn’t talk to her. The sadness and the fact that I couldn’t meet you depressed me a lot. We had to stay back in our village as my father had to now take care of my siblings. I channeled all my energies to academics and I am the first person from my village to be a post graduate.”

The teacher and her student both had tears in their eyes by now. The student continued “I did pick up odd jobs, teach students etc. to make ends meet. We set up a restaurant in Almora which my siblings run and we are doing quite well now. My father helps in the business and we are financially sound.”

“So, do you run the restaurant, are you in-charge of the day-to-day affairs?” she asked proudly. The young man curtsied as he replied, “No Ma’am. I appeared and cleared the IAS exam. Today, I am an IAS officer and earn a lot of respect.”

 He touched her feet and gave her the credit for his accomplishments. “I had sent the cheque that you received some days back. This card has my name and number. Please do reach me anytime you need any administrative help with regards to the school. It will be my honour to contribute towards this great institution that you are trying to build.  I have been silently tracking your life. I knew that you would require money for the scale of institution that you plan to build. My only concern was if the amount would be sufficient.”

Her joy knew no bounds. She has taught him for free because she saw in him the unquenchable thirst for knowledge. And, today he had paid her over ten times in money terms and a zillion times in happiness.

Her fiftieth birthday had become more special than she ever imagined. This was definitely the BEST BIRTHDAY Gift, she had ever received! She would cherish this till her last breath.