A reason to live!

Pansy, my little Pansy. I first noticed her bundled in white sheets, with eyes shut tight. Her wrinkled skin was as pink as a blooming rose. She looked so delicate that I was afraid to hold her in my arms, lest I hurt her.

Pansy. She is born with a complex medical situation termed as Hydrocephalus, which means, in simple terms, she has cavities in her brain filled with water. This condition has posed challenges before this little soul more than I could have, any day, imagined. She cannot stand, she sits with support, she cannot chew solid food and depends on liquid diet, she cannot speak, cannot feel, cannot emote. No one knows what she sees when her eyes move around the room.

After her birth, the doctors had said that she would not live for long. A week’s time may be, or a month but not more than that.

Pansy was in such a hurry to see the world that she took birth during the seventh month of her mother’s pregnancy. With all the complexities her mother had faced, no one could have believed that Pansy would take birth, alive. And then her family was sure that she would have a short life on the earth.

I am her full-time nurse. I hold her with extra care, in the softest of sheets I can. When I hold her, I feel like holding my entire world in my arms. I see the little bosom going up and down and tell myself, she is breathing. The ballet of life is still going on. She is still alive.

So convincing were the doctors about her short span of life that she was not given a name. The family, I could see, was always fighting to free themselves from the emotional bondage Pansy was taking them into, they were trying hard to be rational and stoic.

When I saw her, I named her Pansy.

Pansy came into my life at the time when I had found my own world being meticulously broken, by providence, piece by piece. My near ones, most of them, bid me goodbye and dear ones informed me that the life's accounts have been settled and there remained no dues in life’s balance sheet. So I started a new journey, at the age of 60, all alone, with Pansy in my life.

I have witnessed doctors being unsure about administering her immunusation, she will not live, after all, they said. The family organized no festivity to celebrate her birth, she will not live, after all, the family feared. They did not name her either.

But she has been living. I have seen the little body breathing, day and night, I have seen the delicate eyes sleep and wake up, every morning for days, weeks, months and past four years! Four years, she is still alive! And since four years, I have been her soldier. I have fought for her right to immunusation; I have fought for her right to have a name and fought hard for hosting a homecoming celebration. And this soldier has been a winner all through.

No one knows, for how long Pansy will live. Her parents are caught between the two ends and her siblings are eagerly watching over her. I have explained all of them, how special Pansy is and have ensured that the siblings are protective about her.

If only God could let the family move on, that is what everyone says. Yes, of course, the family has a future to move to. Pansy’s siblings have future to be secured.

Only Pansy and I do not have one. We have no future. We have only this moment, a moment to love. To bask in each other’s company, to watch as life passes by till it comes to a quiet halt some day.

Till then, we have a reason to live!

Photograph: from internet

As the sun rises again....

The bus took her through long trails in the woods, by the undulated roads, passing by some rickety wooden houses. Innocent faces of the village children, with the sleep still stuck at the edge of the little eyes, looked at the bus curiously while some dust clad little bodies ran here and there.

In an hour, the bus halted by the ‘bus stand’, which was a structure made of four crooked wooden sticks roofed by a blue-painted shade. Village Daam, they said. She alighted from the bus and paused for a while to breathe the fresh air.

She was there, at last. After 12 hours of long journey, she had reached the little tribal village of Daam, nestled in the hills of Dalma.

Rehana was there to gather the broken pieces of her life. She did not want to repent later in life for not having tried enough. And what was the measure for ‘Enough”, she did not know.

She had found herself at the crossroads in her little life. Rehana was already about to be engaged to Rex. Her father was suffering from abdominal cancer. Since the past six long years, she had kept her parents waiting, along with herself, waiting for Aahaan to decide about their wedding. But in six years, things changed and they did not really take a direction which Rehana wished.

With her father in the death bed, she decided to put an end to the wait and decide for once and for all. And that is how she landed in the small little village of Daam.

While travelling to the place, her mind was cluttered but once she landed in the village the cold wind refreshed her mind and she was instantly at peace. Now she knew why Aahaan never wanted to leave this place and never intended to quit his work as a medical practitioner in the village. Aahaan had decided to spend his life at this place.

Rehana reached the terracotta coloured single storey building, the only brick one, in the neighborhood. A medium sized pathway lined with jackfruit trees led her to what was named, ‘Mariam kee aashish’: the hospital-cum-home-cum-guest house of Aahaan which housed one doctor, two nurses, some staff and million dreams and commitments.

No sooner did she knock the door, a young, merry lad came out to welcome her, “Aap Rehana didi hain naa?” So, this boy already knew about her. A ray of hope remotely shone in her heart. “So Aahaan has told them about me…is he…….well, decided about the marriage?” she thought.

The lad, who said his name was Shibu, led Rehana to a guest room which had a neatly made cot, a writing table, a prayer corner and enough drinking water. Then Rehana’s eyes fell on the small glass bowl with jasmine floating in water. Memories of past gushed in to fill the room with a familiar aroma. So Aahaan remembered how she loved jasmines and would always have the flowers in a glass bowl in the apartment she had in Kolkata, where the two of them had spent countless moments drowned in love, passion, dreams, smiles, sunshine and rainbows….Rehana was now sure that Aahaan still loved her intensely and could not let her go.
Shibu informed that Aahaan would return only by late afternoon since he had four faraway villages to visit. Aahaan had left very early with his team but had ensured that Rehana’s stay was comfortable. Her return journey was scheduled for early next morning.

Shibu supplied her hot water for a refreshing bath and by the time she was ready, her lunch was ready too. She took her meal in solitude at one edge of the big dining table in the large living room. Shibu had prepared some hot Chila (a dosa made of rice powder) and steaming chicken curry. While she enjoyed her refreshing hot meal in the winter afternoon, she looked around to observe the room which was an evident display of the neat taste which Aahaan had.

After lunch, she moved around the hospital and the neighbourhood. To Rehana’s surprise, she discovered that most of them knew her. It seemed Aahaan often talked about her.

By late afternoon, Rehana was actually beginning to imagine herself living in this secluded place; she mentally planned her future years, managing a comfortable home for two of them, raising children and she also planned that her Ammi would stay along with them, right here. Only if Aahaan agreed to all these, she thought and smiled to herself, mocking at her elusive thoughts.

Aahaan arrived at about 5 p.m. while Rehana was sipping some tea, sitting at the footsteps of the kitchen. The screeching sound of the wheels of the jeep Aahaan was driving sent untamed waves of excitement in her arms and down her spine. In another minute Aahaan was standing just in front of her.

Her Aahaan. Her tall, well groomed, neatly dressed Aahaan. Her Aahaan with million dreams in the deep black eyes. Her Aahaan with the most assuring smile in the world.

Rehana was holding tight, the reins of her wish to run into his arms. She had tanks of tears which would burst any time, she had questions more than her mind could hold, she had complains, she had doubts and more than anything else, she had love. Unending, unfathomable love for Aaahaan.

After tea, Aahaan found a calm solitude place for the two of them. To ‘talk’. They sat on a wooden bench near the hospital, overlooking the Dalma hills. Sitting at the lap of the mighty and beautiful Dalma, Rehana was ready with her questions. Strangely, her voice failed her when Aahaan took her hands into his…

“Look Rooh,” Aahaan started, “I know, I understand, why you are here. I also know what I am here for. My life belong to these people here..you know everything about this place, you also know about what I feel about the people, about my life’s commitment. I have done enough injustice to you. For six long years, I have led you…..to nowhere. I am your culprit. You know where this relation is headed to….to nowhere. It is time we come to a decision. Rex is a nice person, I am sure. He will shower you all the love, care, affection and wealth which I cannot. He will also care for Abbu and Ammi and will build a comfortable life for all of you. As for your Aahaan, you and I will be forever friends for life’’

Rehana looked up at the Dalma. The evening grey clouds were hanging low by the hill side, as if they were trying to concentrate and keenly witness, whatever was happening in Rehana’s life.

They did not have much to talk. Aahaan continued for some more time but the words did not fall into Rehana’s ears. The cloud was getting denser and bigger.
“Will you say SOMETHING at least?” Aahaan insisted.
“Hmm? Well…no, can I have a cup of tea?”

They had their dinner quietly at Aahaan’s co-worker’s house. A couple invited to dinner at a friend’s place? She thought and smiled once again. Her mind never failed to tickle her with deviant thoughts!

The wind was harsh as they returned after the dinner. Rehana spent the night in the guest room. There was a heavy storm followed by torrential rains which damaged the telephone and electric lines. So, as planned, she could not talk to her Ammi and Abbu nor watch her favourite , “Man versus Wild” on TV. In the candle-lit room, she was lying, in the cosy white bed. “What a gentleman Aahaan is, he let me sleep in a separate room!” the stray thoughts again smiled in her mind. It was raining very badly outside. She put off the candle and dived into a deep slumber.

The next morning, while they waited for the bus, Aahaan said, “You will be okay, happy and healthy, Rooh, promise me.” The cold foggy morning made her eyes so wet that she could hardly look up.

They could hardly spot the bus arriving in the dense fog. The bus driver and conductor took some time off to have a cup of steaming tea while Rehana and some other passengers boarded the bus. Aahaan’s voice was shaky and wet, “Goodbye Rooh, keep in touch please”. After she had placed her bag in the seat, she came down to shake hands. As she again boarded her bus, she turned her head to utter softly, “Aahaan, I can never be JUST FRIENDS with you. Goodbye.......!”

The bus left for the nearest town. As it moved through the u-turns in the valley, the sky became clearer. In another hour, the sun shone. After the storm during the previous night, the clouds had cleared and the sky was much much clearer today.

And Rehana headed homewards..

“Jiski aakhon mein katee thi sadiyaan
Usne sadiyon kee judaayi dee hai
Phir wohee laut ke jaanaa hogaa
Yaar ne aisi rihaayii dee hai”

Anindita Baidya

9 Dec 2010

(Photograph: From internet)

tell-a-tale

This post is on behalf of my daughter. Of many of the tales she spins out for me, this is the most recent and I find it very very interesting. She narrated this one, yesterday while I was bathing her.

She started, “एक Heart-महल में एक रानी अकेली रहती थी । एक दिन उसे बहुत पेट में दर्द हुआ । डॉक्टर ने कहा कि पेट में बेबी है । फिर उसका पेट काटना पड़ा...”

By then I was wondering if the neighbours (if anybody overhearing us from their respective bathrooms) would be thinking. Since we stay in flats and our bathroom songs and tales are audible to other flat inmates too, from their bathrooms, it is not impossible that we were having eager listeners. ‘दीवारों के भी कान होते हैं...!’

She continued, “ ....फिर रानी के पेट से एक बच्चा आया, फिर और एक....फिर और एक....फिर 4...फिर 5,6,7,8,9 और 10 बच्चें निकले...! पर इतने बच्चों का ख्याल रखेंगे?”

And now do not miss the ending.

“..इसीलिए तो कहते हैं एक बेबी हो....जैसे हमारी है...”




I wonder from where she got these ideas but I am sure these are her ORIGINAL words. We have not talked about any ‘two-kids family' concept nor is she advocating ‘one girl child family’. Here was my daughter, sounding like a tele-ad for ‘family planning..’, and I just found it hilarious and amazing.

If only she knew, if we could afford, we would actually have loved to have ten children, ...why not !

तोह्फ़ा

देते हैं तोहफ़े आपस में
जब भी बिछड़ते हैं लोग
तुम भी मुझे, जाने से पहले
कोई तोहफ़ा दे दो

मेरी मुट्ठियों में भरकर
ज़रा तुम्हारी कुछ सासें दे दो

कभी इसको शाखों पर बसाकर
आशियाना बना डालूँगी

कभी दिल से लगाकर अपने
धड़कन बना डालूँगी

कभी किताबों के सफ़ेद-काले पन्नों के बीच
उसको रख दूँगी

कभी कलम में डालकर
उसे तहरीर बना डालूँगी

दामन में कभी बसाकर उसे
खुशबू का नाम दूँगी

कभी सासों में घुलकर उसे
नशा बना डालूँगी

तकिए के नीचे रखकर कभी
उसको सपनों में बसायूंगी

कभे धूप बनाकर उसे
बालों में छुपा लूँगी

मखमली चादर में डालकर
उसको ओढ़ लूँगी

कभी ज़ेवर बना कर उसे
मैं पहन लूँगी

रहेगी बनकर एक हिस्सा तुम्हारी,
ये साँसें
दे दो, हाँ कुछ चन्द साँसें
उनसे ज़िन्दगी बना लूँगी

Anindita Baidya
(written on 08 Nov 1994)

Photograph source: The internet

'Matri roopen Samsthitha'....?????

आज दुर्गाष्टमी है
मैं बुलबुल..
दौड़ती, फिरती हूँ चाची, मामी, भाभियों के घर

कई घरों में आज कन्या पूजा रखा है
उमंगें उमड़ती है
मुझमें और मीना, रेखा, सीमा सब में

हर एक घर में
हमारी आरती उतारकर
तिलक करके
खूब भोग करा रही हैं सभी.....

कोई दे रही है हमें
कुछ शगुन के रूपए
तो कहीं पर मिल रही है
चूड़ियाँ, कपड़े या कई और तोहफे

हर साल मुझे इंतज़ार रहता है
दुर्गाष्टमी का
मैं कितनी खुश-नसीब हूँ
मैं कन्या हूँ
हमारे देश में कन्या को पूजा जाता है

आज दुर्गाष्टमी है
मैं ममता
सुबह से भूखी मैं
न सुझे कुछ मुझको
माँ ने आम के पेड़ के नीचे
बनाई थी कुछ रोटियाँ

माँ को जाना है
ईंट की भट्टी
बाबा भी जायेंगे

मैं खिला दूंगी रोटियाँ
मेरे चारों भाई-बहनों को
मैं बड़ी हूँ सबसे
मैं भूखी रह लूंगी
फिर ईँटा-भट्टी में कुछ काम भी कर लूंगी

काश दूर उन लड़किओं की तरह
मुझे भी कोई देता दुर्गाष्टमी के भोग
पर नहीं उन आराम तक फैलते नन्हे हाथ हमारे

माँ ने कहा, आज दुर्गाष्टमी है
कहीं पूजते हैं हमारी रूप को
तो कहीं ह्मारे देश में
बच्चें भूखे सो जाते हैं

आज दुर्गाष्टमी है
मेरा नाम नहीं है कोई
घर पर दादी, ताई और बुआ
कन्या भोज में लगी हैं


माँ को समय नहीं है
उनको जाना है

एक फैसला निभाने को
मुझे अपने बदन से निकाल फेकने को

उन्हें पता जो चला है
मेरी रूह एक लड़की बन कर
उनकी कोख में पल रही है

माँ की तो तीन लड़कियाँ और है
मेरी ज़रूरत कहाँ

जनेगी नहीं मेरी माँ मुझे

आज दुर्गाष्टमी है

मेरे देश में
कन्यायों की बली भी दी जाती है!

Images: From internet

The Robin by my window sill

I noticed it only on a cold windy afternoon during January. Sitting by the window of the living room, I watched the rain fall torrentially down my ground floor window. I had left the window open just to listen to the raindrops ploughing the soil and feel the biting cold. A robin, wet from the torrent, sat in a corner, shaking its feathers to dry itself up, once a while.

The torrent outside could only vaguely match up to the tempest going within me....

I had just lost Papa!

Sitting inside the cold room in Jalandhar, I was posed with the biggest question of my life: why did Papa have to leave! I had requested him to wait, wait until I earn enough to offer the best of treatments and the best of comforts.

Far away in the small hilly village of Tiloiya, in the borders of Assam, I had left my Papa and Ma to take care of themselves and I had taken the bus to the city and to this faraway land, to earn money, fame and a credential. I was out to prove to all my extended family members that I would prove to be The Caregiver of my parents, what if they had no son, what if I was the youngest of the five sisters, what if they had wished for a son while I was born!

I noticed the Robin again. It looked at me with a tilted head. I suddenly had goose pumps all over my body, why, I had no clue! As I shut the window to return to the cosy bed room, I could not help but look at the Robin again and again.

Next morning, I woke up startled from a dream; I could see Papa looking for me through the window of the living room. I brushed away the thought, only because I was still angry and hurt. My Papa had hurt me! I could not come into terms that he gave me no chance to fulfil my desire to offer him some kind of treatment for his lungs ailment. He had to be so conceited to leave me!

I invited the chilled gush of wind to fill me, only to quench my anger. The more the wind hurt, the more I felt a brutal contentment. I wanted a punishment, harsher, much harsh than this!

The Robin returned during the afternoon. It was the only time I smiled. The day was sunny and so was my mood. The Robin whistled a soft tune as if to call me by my name.

I had not visited my village after Papa’s demise. I did not want to. I could not see the triumphant Papa with those floral decorations on him and my Ma helplessly mourning over him. No, I could not be such a loser!

Papa arrived in my dreams that night, again, smiling and teasing me that I am the most stubborn and spoilt among his girls. And then he called me by my name just as the Robin had whistled that afternoon, in a sing song tone.

The college was closed for the winter so I could spend the entire day alone: oh! How I loved it! I did not want any company. The only company during the afternoons was the Robin by the window sill while I read pages from some books and occasionally looked at the Robin.

I sometimes wandered whether the Robin was waiting for its mate. I wandered why it was alone, just like me! And I wandered why it had to sit during that entire one hour by the window, while I read a book, before going off to have a nap. I had never seen any bird seated so calmly and continuously.

I would often place some rice grains and the Robin would take but one grain from it and the rest were often left behind, scornfully.

I started believing that the Robin was pretty much like me. As arrogant, as stubborn as I was!

That particular dawn I had a strange dream that my father was showering grains of rice all over me. He then picked up but one grain and disappeared.

My sleep was broken by the loud ring of the antique telephone. It was my eldest sister on the other side. She informed me that they were performing the 12th day rites for the peace of my Papa’s departed soul. She also said that although I did not seemingly bother, she thought it was her duty to inform me. Her scornful remark cut through my heart and I found an immense pleasure in the hurt! I had now graduated to another level of punishment for myself! I deserved worse!

I did not perform any rite on my part at my quarters. That afternoon, I waited for the Robin but it did not arrive. I waited for the entire afternoon, until the dusk but in vain.

My Papa no more arrived in my dreams after that day.

All the afternoons during that cold long winter vacation, I would wait, stand, sit by the window, also look everywhere in my garden but the Robin never turned up. Never again.

I believe my Robin must have soared high above in the skies in search of light. My rose garden and my grain of rice did not allure my Robin anymore.

Till we meet again, my Robin, May God Bless You!


Photograph: from internet

CHUMKI.......

Chumki:
The name has a tinkle in it, sounds like little rays of light reflecting on some shining little beads...

Her life is not as shining though...!

Chumki, she worked as a domestic help at my cousin’s place. Chumki, all of 12, she was the sole bread-earner for a family of six.

I met her for the first time during my visit to my cousin's place at Rajabajaar, in Kolkata. I had thrown up temper and staged protests saying that my cousin has no right to employ a child. Chumki should go to school and secure her future. To all that, my cousin only replied that my altercation does not really change Chumki’s reality. So, if my conviction is not real, what is?

Chukmki was the eldest of the siblings. She had four sisters and her mother was pregnant with her eigth child. Five children had survived; two had died one-two months after their birth. Chumki’s parents had owned a small piece of land in a village in Purulia. Her father reportedly was an alcoholic who spent most of the time under some tree shed in the village while his wife toiled in her own and other villagers’ land to earn a wage. They lost their little land in debt and that is when the entire family migrated to Kolkata. Chumki’s father was not in a position to toil, he suffered from a chronic lung infection and was often irritated and bit up his wife and daughters. The other siblings were quite small and Chumki’s mother waited for them to grow up enough to get themselves employed as domestic workers as well.

Chumki’s mother, hoping to have a son, went on with her eighth pregnancy and when I met Chumki, her mother was in the seventh month of pregnancy and so had stopped working at the flats; Chumki compensated for her mother’s absence too.
She worked day-long, obediently listening to all the orders her employers had for her; at times she looked at my books with hunger and a tinge of sadness in her eyes. Whenever there was a delicacy cooked in the house, my cousin would give some to her. Chumki never had any. She took her serving to be shared among all her sisters and if possible her ma.

Chumki had made me feel so helpless. Her presence challenged and laughed at my theoretical convictions which I had no clue to transform into action. There I was sitting, looking at her eyes and my heart bleeding and watching her mopping the floor and narrating her mother’s experiences at the small village of Purulia. She had no tale to tell of her own!

That was about five years back. After my cousin left Kolkata, we had no clue as to what happened to Chumki.

Her memory has not faded wih time. I wander where is Chumki now? Is she still working in those flats, is her mother satisfied with a son or is still trying for one? Or has Chumki been married off to start her job of procreation while still working as domestic help?

I have no answer! There are questions but no answers...

Will her fate change ever? For that matter, will the fate of the any of the Chumkis change.......do we have an answer?


Photograph: From internet