The Daughter I Never Had

A Short Story

Sunita was preparing dinner for her family. Her eight month old son was sleeping in the cradle in her room while her toddler played in the drawing room with her sister-in-law. Sunita had worked as a teacher in a primary school before her children were born. Presently, she was a housewife, taking care of her home and family was her duty. Her family comprised of her husband, his parents, his sister, grandmother and her two sons. Her husband a post graduate, worked at a bank and earned sufficiently to support all of them.

Sunita was making chapattis in the kitchen and was wondering if she was late. Her delay had earned her harsh taunts from her mother-in-law in the past, but what she feared much more was the tight slap from her husband that had left his palm printed on her face. She suddenly heard a child whisper into her ear. Although she could not make out what was being said, it was distinctly the voice of a child, a girl, not more than five. There was no one beside her and she dismissed it. Maybe she was tired.

Two days later while picking up her son’s toys from the floor she heard the voice again, whispering close to her right ear. She did not think much about it till later in the evening when her mother-in-law spoke about how Ammaji was losing her mind with old age. While Sunita knew that Ammaji at times spoke about very old incidents or forgot dates but this was bizarre. She had claimed to see a pretty little girl in the house, dressed in a beautiful frock and she asserted that it was Sunita’s daughter.

Later, that night as Sunita was drifting off to sleep after completing all her chores and putting her sons to sleep, she was startled to hear someone call out to her... ‘Ma’. She sat up with a jerk and found both her sons and husband sleeping peacefully. She could no longer go back to sleep and began thinking about the voice she had heard repeatedly over the past few days and about Ammajis insistence of having seen her daughter in the house. She was reminded of the time when she had been pregnant with their first child five years ago, before her sons were born.

Tears rolled down her sleepless melancholic eyes as she recalled how the gender detection test ordered by her mother-in-law had led to a big upheaval in their otherwise peaceful life. Her premature daughter had been snatched away from her, denied to live, extracted forcefully from her womb in an obscure nursing home in old Gurgaon. Sunita had cried for days, not from the pain, but from the grief of having lost her baby. Her husband although not an active accomplice had remained speechless and powerless in front of his mother’s wishes. The two pregnancies that followed would have met the same fate, but luckily for her, they were both male.

She wondered how an educated woman like her mother-in-law, who had been a school teacher herself, could harbour such hatred for her own creed. How a person could decide to end the life of her own grandchild, just because she was a girl? She could have revolted against her mother-in-law which would have left her homeless and rejected even by her own parents, but how could she fight against a society that considered a son to be the prized possession and a daughter as a burden. With these thoughts running in her mind, Sunita stayed awake till her tired body took over and guided her to sleep. She dreamt of a little girl in the pink frock, her face as pretty as a porcelain doll, bright eyes, pink lips and the most beautiful smile she had ever seen.

As per the 2011 population census, Haryana has sex ratio of 879 females per 1000 males, which is much below the national average of 940.

Interesting Census Facts 2011

§  Mahe district of Puducherry has the highest sex ratio of 1176 females per 1000 males

§  Daman district has lowest sex ratio of 533 females per 1000 males

 

http://www.census2011.co.in/states.php

Om Namah Shivay!

A Short Story

Mornings were identical in the Rajagopalan household. The sound of Carnatic music from Thatha and Paati’s room informed the rest of the household that it was past five in the morning and cajoled them to wake up to start a fresh new day. Their daughter-in-law, Meenakshi, now in her early fifties rushed to the kitchen to prepare filter coffee for the family. Within thirty minutes the dining area was fragrant with the smell of freshly prepared sambhar and the whistle from the cooker indicated that the idlis would soon be on their way to the table. On some days they had dosas too.

Paati was the first one in the house to take a bath and she would walk out of her room in a brightly coloured kanjeevaram silk saree bedecked in several gold chains, bangles and diamond nose pins adorned both sides of her nose. The entire Rajagopalan family, including Thatha, Paati, their son Mahesh and their two grandchildren, Shiva and Anuradha would be seated at the dining table just as M.S. Subbulakshmi’s song came to an end, often working as a cue for everyone to start eating. Meenakshi managed the house with clockwork precision, meals and snacks were served on or even before time, every single day of the year. On certain days the clock’s battery would fail them, but not Meenakshi.

Soon the children could be heard complaining about the lack of variety at the breakfast table, often followed by a gentle reminder from Thatha that they should be grateful for the food they were having rather than complaining, while his son would prefer to keep out of the usual bickering and stoop over the newspaper and throw in a piece of fruit or idli into his mouth at regular intervals. His wife Meenakshi would settle into the same chair every morning to have her breakfast of a banana, two idlis and coconut chutney in peace, once her husband left for office, children went to college and her in-laws had retired to their room to rest. The excursion to the dining room itself was a major event for them, enough to tire them out after every meal.

Every fortnight, usually on a Sunday morning, Mahesh and Meenakshi along with their children would visit the Guruvayoor temple in Mayur Vihar (Delhi). While the children were never keen to go to the temple they did not dare to stage a protest in front of their strict father. They took it as something essential for every Tam Bram. They came home with Vibhuti smeared on their foreheads and Prasadam made of rice and jaggery for their grandparents. Festivals like Diwali, Pongal and Vishu were celebrated with puja at home. All rituals and customs were followed to the T with complete devotion. Meenakshi was seen decorating the entrance of the house with fresh flowers and rice flour based rangoli at six in the morning on these special occasions. They were a God fearing, religious family with a firm belief in destiny and God’s blessings. They celebrated their “star” birthdays* with greater enthusiasm than their birthdays as per the Gregorian calendar. These star birthdays involved homams, japams, deepam, dhuppam, danam and not to forget the essential payasam.

On Shiva’s star birthday that year, Swamiji came over to conduct a homam at their house but before he left, Shiva’s mother Meenakshi, after expressing her santosham for the puja, asked Swamiji to look into Shiva’s horoscope since he was in the last year of college and she was anxious about her son’s future prospects. Paati and Thatha moved closer to Swamiji with considerable effort to listen to Swamiji disclose the secrets of Shiva’s future. Swamiji had special powers bestowed upon him through years of devotion and worship to the almighty.

Swamiji took out a handful of shells from the small red pouch he was carrying with him, placed it on the table, tilted his head backwards and closed his eyes in devotion, he began chanting in Sanskrit with the shells trapped in his palm. Once his chanting ended he placed a few shells on the table, in a pattern that only made sense to him. The family watched him with rapt attention. After a full minute of silence, Swamiji finally spoke. He was always polished in his words and with years of practice he knew how to share bad news softly, but Meenakshi did see a few lines appear on Swamiji’s forehead before he spoke. Swamiji predicted a fatal accident for Shiva and if he overcame that he would have a smooth sailing and was sure to get admission into a good college abroad for higher studies. He saw a very bright future for Shiva but the accident was something that could shatter their dreams.

Paati let out an “Aiyoo” immediately and began to call upon the Gods. Thatha fell silent and began looking at the floor, it appeared as if his complexion had turned darker with worry. Meenakshi, who was the anchor of the family at such times prodded Swamiji to tell them a way to avert this misfortune. She was confident that with the blessings of the Lord, they would be able to overcome this problem and her beloved Shiva would be safely on his way to earning a Master’s degree in the US. Mahesh and the children looked at their mother and then Swamiji as he began to chant again. He then suggested a Mahayagya to please Lord Shiva. They had to conduct a Mahamrityunjay Homam to prevent any tragedy. Meenakshi agreed immediately, she had full faith in Swamiji and the blessings of the almighty.

After Swamiji left, Shiva approached his parents and asked them not to fall into the trap laid out by Swamiji. He knew that Swamiji was playing on their fears to earn big bucks for himself. He dismissed the need for any such unnecessary Mahayagya which would involve ten pandits who would chant mantras over a period of five days. Anuradha too asked her mother to think like an educated human being and not fall for everything that Swamiji said. Paati who was still in the room let out another “Aiyoo” followed by touching of both her ears and biting her tongue as if these arguments would offend the Gods watching over the Rajagopalan family.

Soon Mahesh interrupted the discussion and said that they would conduct the puja without any delay and asked his wife to fix up an auspicious date with Swamiji as soon as possible. Meenakshi agreed and immediately went to the next room to get the holy almanac to look at the dates. Shiva and Anuradha looked at each other and left the room in a huff. By the next evening Meenakshi had fixed the date and all the arrangements began. The very next Wednesday the yajna began and ended with a huge homam on the following Monday. All the men of the house were present in the room wearing white dhotis and angavastrams, while the women adorned themselves in nine yard Kanjeevaram silks, kumkum on their foreheads. The continuous crescendo of chanting by ten pandits, the fragrance of white flowers and the heat of the fire from the homam had changed the environment at home. The entire family sat there with their hands folded in deep devotion.

After the puja was over Meenakshi served lunch to all the Brahmins on the freshly procured banana leaves. The pandits left happily with the daan and dakshina Mahesh gave them. Shiva and Anuradha stayed home for the day and later in the evening Shiva complained to his sister on the unnecessary expenditure his father incurred to satisfy the pot-bellied Brahmins. Anuradha agreed and in the same breath spoke about the futility of any disagreement with their grandparents on parents. Shiva did realize that it was done out of love and for his well-being. They all had big hopes from him, he was the son they would rely on when they grew older just the way Thatha and Paati depended on their father.

In another part of Delhi that day where the new flyover was being constructed, one section of the concrete came loose and landed on the road. A biker got crushed under its weight and breathed his last before making it to the hospital. It was the same road Shiva took every day on the way back from college. He read it in the papers next morning and decided to take another route on the way back home to avoid the traffic. Before Meenakshi settled down for breakfast that morning she read about the tragic accident in the newspaper. She looked up from the newspaper and closed her eyes for a moment, the crease on her forehead becoming prominent. Her lips quivered as she sent out a silent prayer expressing her gratitude to the Gods ending with a barely audible "Om Namah Shivay".

*Star Birthday is the day on which the Nakshatra of the person appears in his/her birth month. The date of the star birthday is usually different from the actual date of birth and changes from one year to the next.

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Meri Sautan

No, I am not saying that my husband has another woman in his life or that he is promiscuous but I do believe that I have a Sautan. My sautan is his badminton buddy who he plays with every morning, the Gujju group of volleyball enthusiasts who take him away from me every Sunday morning, his office parties on Friday nights, his presentation decks that make him work through the night, his work requirements that make him travel for days and even Salman Khan who prefers to shoot for advertisements on weekends, leaving me alone, that too on a Saturday!

Everything that takes him away from me other than his long yet well accepted office hours pinches my heart and I feel envious, just like I would of my husband’s mistress. I am forever hungry for his time, attention and love. I want to grab every minute of him that I can get my hands on! I know, I know…we need space in our relationship, he has work commitments that he needs to fulfil, we need “me” time to stay sane, follow our passions and invest in our health. My brain understands and accepts it but my heart doesn’t.

Most times I let my mind rule over, even having encouraged him to go watch an IPL match at the stadium the day our first baby was born. But today morning watching him get ready to leave for the airport to interview students from IIM-L evoked a different emotion in me. My heart lovingly complained to him about how he had de-prioritized me over the students he was going to meet and his badminton buddy. I threatened to write an open letter to his buddy about the pains of watching my husband nodding off to sleep along with the kids, so he could be up for the game at six in the morning rather than play a different game with me. He burst out laughing listening to all my allegations.

While we all have this sautan taking away a little more of our spouse than we are willing to share, this sautan is a necessary evil and a part of our life. It makes our time together all the more precious. Things that are available in plenty are hardly sought after, those that are scarce are much more valued.

I admire the Ardhanarishwar painting in my mother’s drawing room. It depicts Shiva and Parvati together in one form, inseparable halves of the same body. The ideology behind it makes it more beautiful than the painting itself.