Antara.

Chaos is more comforting than calm;
Especially when the chaos outside you surpasses the one inside.

The noisy nurses clad in their white uniforms walked to and fro, shouting at each other at the top of their voices; instructing the visitors to maintain silence. The pungent smell of dettol and medicines nauseated my senses and i feared that the stench from the wash basin nearby would kill me before the burgeoning pain inside does.

I stared at the titan clung to my weary wrist, the hour hand lay exactly on the top of the minute one; and I realized with shock that it has been only 2hrs since the birth died.

I looked at the watch again to recheck, the tattered black strap and the dark grey dial seemed to be aching with the weight of my sorrow. I had assumed it would be much longer than just 2hrs considering how every nanosecond I’ve spent here i lived a million deaths. Waiting...

Waiting for a father who is fated to see his dead son lying in the cradle peacefully. And I, as the wife of the father have the privilege to crucify him with this news.

And what a shameful situation this!

As I’m cringing with pain at the thought of a mother losing her child at birth, the mother who delivered the child opened her eyes after the operation to ask if her ‘payment’ has been credited .I could do nothing but feel wretched being there, and not having him by my side.

Aren’t all women made of the same material? Doesn’t ‘motherly’ live in her as much as it does in me? Why didn’t his death torment her , like it has me? And why did the thought of extra payment at attempting to produce another child enter her mind 5mins after she learnt that the child is dead?

Can poverty kill love? Can poverty kill the human in you? The mother in a woman? It seems to have!

And how can I comfort Sid? How do I tell him; that all his compromises have gone futile, that he should pack his dreams in a sack and burry them along with the child in the cemetery?

That I’ve lost a part of me with this child ,a part of my aliveness, a part of an identity as a woman, a part of my love for myself; forever?!

Violent shrieks of the women from the labour ward made me giddy; bringing back memories of my craving to shriek like this. And i felt dizzy again. With fear, anger, anxiety, pity and disappointment.

It seemed like i was holding on to my tender life just so that I can give him the news and kiss his goodbye. And I was...

Totally exasperated by the sickening drowsiness, suffocation and nausea. Not so long ago I would rejoice in sickness, my maternal instincts would look up at the joyful anticipation of “carrying a child”. But when the doc gave his verdict “Nothing but a miracle can create a child in your barren womb” my world shattered.

‘A barren womb’ he had said. How could he? No woman can be barren in my opinion, not with the mammoth love and affectation we hold in it. Not with the stupendous dreams we weave for our unborn children.

When I first mentioned the idea of ‘employing’ her, he refused outright. He had to! His love for me, his own desire to father a child and his understanding of my need to have a family won him over and he gave in.He had to.

Ofcourse; he could never get around to accepting that I wouldn’t bear the child.In fact he didn’t want to stay put in the hospital when she delivered the baby, he had craved to lift the child from my arms and kiss the first kiss. So he found an excuse, went off to the town to collect my test results. This dizziness that has been visiting me often these days, I wish it would be a life taking disease.

I knew that my world would change in that 2hrs and it did. But differently.

I sat there in the reception hall rehearsing the words I would say, not knowing if I have the courage to do so in years to come. And then I saw him, walking in. Elegantly. Smiling to himself and walking with fast steps.

He pushed open the door and i noticed that blissful glow on his face. I’d seen such joy decades back when we were still courting each other. And now, this extreme elation at the anticipation of becoming a father. But alas!

He spotted my in the corner and waved out to me enthusiastically. He ran up to the reception, stood beside me for a minute and gasped for breath.

He then bent down, caught me by my legs, lifted me up in the air and shouted in an ecstatic fervour.I like a puppet in his arms moved in the direction that he threw me in. Hot tears welled up my eyes, i had forgotten the words I’d thought of speaking.

As he put me down ,my nervous toes slowly touched the ground;I stood still trying hard to muster the strength to tell him. But before I could speak, he did.

“You are going to be a mother” he said softly, and a tranquil smile spread across his face.

I stood there, confused.

“Darling, you are pregnant” he said, emphasizing the last word.

The stone in my heart melt, a lightning flashed, a thunder broke and i closed my eyes; letting the words sink in.

I cried amidst my misty eyelids; I took a long breath as if beaming at my womb, I smiled, I laughed, I fell on the ground and wailed.

A miracle has occurred. A child has died.
Another to be born.

A mother has died.
Anther born.

A miracle to fill our barren lives.

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(Antara - A rhythmic end,the last stanza)