LET’S LEAVE IT TO NATURE

The sweets are for Doctor Sharma. He is a radiologist.

“Don’t forget to get some barfis and jalebis, when the baby is born. I relish those sweets.” 

Those were his parting words as we were leaving his office after he had a first look at our unborn child’s health.

“Sure.”

Our child came into this world last week. Born healthy.

I always keep my word.

So here I am, holding a neatly wrapped box of barfis in my hand, waiting outside his office this evening. It is the month of May and quite hot outside. You know how hot it is just before the rains.

I would have also brought a box of jalebis from the famous Morbiwala House of Jalebi for him, but Priti said that it would not be necessary. I always listen to her.

……

“Which is your favourite colour?”

“Nothing specific.”

“Given a choice, what would you prefer - the blue of skies or the pink of roses?

I paused to think. The questions being asked held no significance to me. Why ask me for choices of colours?

“Are you considering painting your bedroom, Doctor Sharma?”

“Um…ah…er. Nothing like that. I was wondering what colour you would like to paint your child’s room.”

My wife was in the ante-room for abdominal ultrasound sonography. We were expectant parents. Doctor Sharma was recommended to us by the gynaecologist for checking the development of the foetus.

“Listen carefully to what he says,” the gynaecologist had warned. “At times he talks mysteriously.”

So here I was listening to his words paying full intention.

……

Doctor Sharma came out of the ante-room, drying his hands with a hand towel.

“Rest assured that the baby is doing fine. It is in the pink of health and developing well. I shall give you the sonography report. Please wait.”

My wife came out of the ante-room. She was all smiles.

“The baby is doing well, the doctor said,” she informed. She was excited and so was I.

The report was handed over to us by the doctor’s assistant. She held a pink coloured envelope containing the radiologist’s report. She appeared to be sad. She looked at my wife and then to me as she handed over the report. As we prepared to leave the, the nurse called out to me and beckoned me with her crooked index finger. When we were out of earshot of my wife, she brought her mouth as close as possible to my ears and hissed – “Don’t ever think of harming that child. It is God’s wish.”

 ……

We were at the gynaecologist’s surgery now, with the report in our hand. As I handed over the envelope to the specialist, I felt I saw a tinge of sadness in her eyes. She reminded me of the middle-aged nurse at the radiologist’s clinic. I had seen similar expression on her face.

“So how are we doing today?” she asked my wife with professional concern.

“The baby kicks.”

“Really! Wonderful!”

“I feel so alive. I am going to be a mother.”

The excitement of anticipation in my wife’s voice was evident and I also was feeling on top of the world. Becoming parents for the first time was a huge source of joy and bonding between my wife and I.

“So would you like to be a mother of a son or a daughter?” the gynaecologist enquired.

“A son of course! He would be the first male child in our part of the family.”

“How does this really matter?” I interjected. “A child is God’s gift.”

Suddenly my wife was belligerent.

“My first child has to be a BOY!”

“Okay. Okay. As you say,” I pacified her. I always listen to her.

The specialist was looking at my wife and then at me.

“Mr Kay, please come to my surgery tomorrow evening. I shall study the report and also speak to the radiologist who did this report and then we shall discuss about the baby.”

……

“So what did the doctor say?”

I had visited the gynaecologist’s surgery and just come back to our home.

“It is a girl. We are going to have a baby girl.”

“The doctor said this?”

“Yes…..and…” I paused as I did not have the heart to speak further. I was in a dilemma. Should I or shouldn’t I.

“And what?”

I needed courage now.

“You want a son.”

“That’s expected of me, now that I am expecting.”

“You want a son.”

“Are you a parrot?” my love was asking me. “Indeed, I want my first one to be born a boy. My parents want to see a male born in the family. You are aware that Tai also has a baby girl and now she can’t conceive.”

“But the report says it is a girl. Our first child is to be a female.”

“Then I don’t want it.”

My wife was in an unrelenting mood. I chose to remain quite for some time.

“Kay, did the doctor advise to abort?”

“The time has passed. We cannot legally abort the foetus now.”

“We can do it illegally. There are scores of abortion clinics in Mumbai. Let’s do this.”

“Priti, let’s talk about this tomorrow. Today we sleep. May we be guided by the all-powerful in our decision.”

I always listen to her.

……

I am an advisor and counsellor. I am a self-called therapist. I counsel people to help them improve their lives. I help them make decisions. I am a catalyst. I change people. No. Don’t think I am an egoist or an egotist. That’s my profession. That’s how I earn my money.

Who will help me to decide? Who will help me to choose?

The entire night I tossed and turned.

“Given a choice, what would you prefer - the blue of skies or the pink of roses?”

Blue for boys and pink for girls.

“What colour you would like to paint your child’s room.”

Lilac. Lavender. Purple.

I was screaming as I woke up. I could hear Priti humming as she was preparing tea for us. Did she not hear me scream?

“Good morning, Kay. Had a good night’s rest?”

My wife was solicitous. I was perspiring. It was winter.

“Come, freshen up and have tea.”

Ours was a love marriage. We fell in love and our parents got us married. Love continued after marriage. We were made and mad for each other. The baby brought the twist. I did not want to disappoint or sadden my wife. I, the father, determined the sex of the child. X & Y chromosomes. YY! Why? Why?

“Priti,” I began as I took the first sip of morning tea. “I did not sleep well last night.”

“I know. You were muttering in your sleep, when I was just waking up.”

“What was I saying? Could you discern?”

Lilac. Lavender. Purple.

“It was gibberish.”

Thank God for such kindness! No harm done.

“Do we have to do it?” I was asking.

“Do what?”

“Let the baby go? We have a choice.”

“Do I have one? My parents……”

“Priti, we have our family. You, I and the little one. What if the next one is also predicted to be a girl?”

“What if?”

Suddenly my wife was seeing the issue about the issue in a different light. What if the next unborn child would also be a female? And, then the next? What does the law of probability say about this?

“Kay! Kay! I am confused.”

“I love you.”

“I also love you, Kay. I am confused.”

“Now, now, are you a parrot?” I teased her as she had teased me yesterday.

“I am really confused, Kay.”

The baby kicked!

“There I felt it!”

There was excitement in her voice.

“Felt what?”

The baby kicked!

I held her hands over the table. Looked into her eyes and said –

“We shall get the baby’s room painted. I give you choice of three colours. Choose one.”

Lilac. Lavender. Purple.

“What do you mean?”

“Neither pink nor blue. Let it be a mix of the two.”

She smiled. She accepted. She chose.

I smiled. I accepted. She chose. She helped me choose. I always listen to her.

The unborn baby lived.

……

“So you have decided to save?” The specialist was asking as she came out from behind the screen after having examined my wife’s progress with the baby.

“Save? Save the child?”

The gynaecologist gave a guilty laugh.

“Save for her marriage. I understand that in your community you have to give a huge sum of money as dowry and lots of gold jewellery along with the bride’s hand in marriage.”

“That’s the situation now. It shall change by the time she comes to the age of marriage.”

“Things do not change. Greed for money will remain a human nature.”

“I hope it changes,” I said suddenly diffident.

“Mr Kay. I congratulate you on your choice of letting the baby live.”

“It was a joint decision of both of us, doctor. Priti is a part of the decision.”

I always listen to her.

I was looking affectionately at my wife who emerged from behind the screen and was hearing what we were speaking about.

“Kay, you always drag me into your decisions,” she accused good humouredly. “It was one of the most difficult, yet wonderful decision that we had to take.”

“Be well prepared,” the doctor advised us as we left her surgery.

……

“Kay. You have become a miser.”

It was my father who was visiting us who made this observation.

“Why, Papa?”

“Since the time my daughter-in-law is expecting, you did not visit us. Where is the lungi you promised me when you last visited?”

My father has excellent memory. Especially for irrelevant matters.

“I shall get one for you today evening, Papa.”

“No, I don’t want one. I understand that you are saving money for my grandchild.”

“Nothing like that, Papa. Just being careful about money. Following the financial planner’s advice.”

“Don’t forget to enjoy life. Living doesn’t mean only having to earn monies. Living means having a life.”

Profound words. Profound statement. Father makes the son proud! Should it not be the reverse?

I shall make you proud someday, Papa.

……

The baby bump is now clearly showing. The baby’s room is ready.

I have personally painted it in my spare time. No. I am not a painter. I am a counsellor. I painted out of love for my would-be child. I painted, as it was therapeutic. I painted as I wanted to be near my Priti. I painted as I wanted to be alone with my thoughts. I painted as I planned for my…our…future.

So many ‘I’s. I am an egotist. Or is it egoist? I don’t know. I don’t care.

……

“Time to send Priti to us for the delivery. Should I ask Priti’s papa to fetch her? When shall I send him across?”

Priti’s parents lived in Nagpur and we were in Mumbai. Nagpur is an excellent city. But this was March and Nagpur would be sweltering by May. Priti and I had taken joint decisions.

No baby shower. No sending to maternal home for the first child’s delivery. No following of traditions.

Save. Save. Save.

Were we overdoing it? Was I overdoing it?

……

At the end of the seventh month of gestation, three elderly ladies came to our home in Mumbai to help us to welcome the expected child to this world.

Before Priti delivered her mother said, “Oh, you are having a boy! Congratulations! I can tell by the way you are carrying.”

Before Priti delivered her mother’s elder sister said, “Oh, you are having a boy! Congratulations! I can tell by the way you are carrying.”

Before Priti delivered my mother said, “Oh, you are having a boy! Congratulations! I can tell by the way you are carrying.”

Elders. They always seem to know.

Doctors know. God knows. Nature knows.

We did not. We knew what the specialists told us. We were ready to receive our daughter. We already had a name for her. We both agreed to that name. We were made for each other.

……

The baby came a bit early. Preemie.

“Mr Kay,” the nurse said, “Hold your baby. The mother’s sleeping now.”

I stared and stared at the child as it cradled in my arms.

Three days later Priti and I took our son home.

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