My Would-be

I never knew nothing could give more happiness than knowing her to become a mother. And yes it was by the mid of a January just after a week of my birthday I was informed that I was pregnant. The joy of becoming a mother and that I was carrying an embryo in my womb could be the biggest reason for me on that day to celebrate my life. I possibly wanted to scream to the world about my ‘would be’ baby and share my happiness to each of the inhabitants of this planet, and let them know that I would join the motherhood pretty soon. I wanted every known and strange person to be informed about the good news of my life! I still remember about my sister cum colleague who was the first to inform me about the report and its positivity directly from the lab. I was still in the realms of my disbelief and reconfirming her words. I know my eyes must have glittered with sparkles of excitement and paradise, on that day on hearing her blissful words. I tried controlling myself and remembering the contacts to be informed first.

My doctor at the very first appointment made a long list of dos, don’ts and musts along with few medicines and regular body weight and pressure checkups prescribed to me. He also made me aware of the general problems and side effects during the pregnancy periods. I soon started weaving fantasies about my seed. I felt good looking at my still flat tummy everyday that I was bearing my child inside. It felt so strangely beautified to be in the transitional phase of a young woman to her motherhood. The magnitude of the absoluteness and the fullness of my body became unexpressed beyond words. The days passed by and I could notice my abdomen shaping up like a balloon slowly. The process of transmitting the emotions and hormones from my brain to toes made my heart grow fonder and fresh. Every day I became more careful and cautious and responsible. I was growing a mother everyday within with my growing liabilities and attitudes. The warmth of the cold season seemed to embrace me with all its tenderness and fortune. Getting into the motherhood sheathed my emotions in pride and predilection.  The doctor had asked me to stay very careful in every sense of the word. Not to hurry up and take stress were the most important and strict rules of them. The implementation of such new rules in my life made me feel really special and anew.

I could relate them all to the phase of growing up my plants in the mini garden, abreast my house. Sowing seeds and then watering them and finding them sprouting out slowly from the ground with their soft fresh green heads, would make one feel that the newbie saplings are trying to explore the new world they were being brought to. I have seen them dancing with the bliss of rains as they pour down on them as a super surprise. And then if at all bees bosom around means nothing’s like it. And so was with me. Everything around me happened to be felt as beautiful as my heaven. I fell for everything I used to see and touch and sense and perceive. I felt I was on the top of this world: that is the miracle of the phase!

My second visit to the doctor after two months confirmed my baby with perfect growth and normalcy. That was the first time I was referred to the ultra-sonography chamber (USG) to scan and determine the baby’s heart beat. And that was the first time I was introduced to my baby. The doctor dipped my belly with some cool gel substance, with me lying on the bed, and was moving something like an extended machine over my abdomen with a soft pressure. She immediately indicated me to look at her monitor. Just a black spot on the screen was seen which I was told by the doctor as my baby, surrounded by some wavy substance. A super fast beating sound that I could hear too through the ear phones was the foetus’ heart beat. Amazing I felt; I felt to capture the most wonderful moment of my life, of a growing life anew inside me. It brought me tears of joy and surprise. The doctor reconfirmed about the baby’s well being in my womb.  

India is still so backward than the western countries. Even at the doorway of the 21^st century, by the age of gender equality, Indian doctors scare to detect and inform about the gender of a foetus to the parents. The abortion rates of female foetus rising high everyday in India. Hence, I was also not aware of the gender of my baby inside me. But I had an option; I could have used it to know the gender. I used to work in a laboratory and the doctor had been a good kin to me. But I wanted to wait for my surprise gift till the end of my nine months. That would be my best gift I could ever have, I knew.

The Known Strangers

Hard eight months have elapsed by now. Aditi stays separated from Sekhar with Rohan, her three year old son. Aditi had to be strong enough to take such a firm decision when nothing was really working fine between her and Sekhar. She had been trying for a decade almost to adjust with the robotic IT Manager, but of no use. And that was one wrong decision she had taken when nothing could she fight back anymore to stay under the same roof along with her machinelike husband. Kind of experimentation, she thought of conceiving which might help the couple to glue back together like before. But even that failed. “Instead of worsening the life of this innocent child amidst such regular screams and punches and fights, it will be at least better to stay apart”, quirked Aditi’s heart to her. And after her last fight with her cold man, she left the house on the very next morning and moved to her parental house along with her son.

The orthodox views of her parents could not save her initially. Hence they ended up crying and sobbing. They could not swallow the fact easily that their beloved ‘married’ daughter had left her husband’s house and decided to settle down with them. They were more concerned about the neighbours and the relatives and also about what would play in their minds once they would come to know about the truth. Aditi failed to let them understand that staying single may turn up a success rather than pretending to be staying as a couple of no relationship and emotion. They were more scared of being blamed for the break-up by their daughter and everybody as it was an arranged marriage. Daughters are still accounted as liabilities even after man’s landing foot on the moon. But Aditi was mature enough to understand the fact that it was not their decision but the nature of Sekhar that had taken the two in the doorway of finishing up everything. She has always believed in the destiny and the lucky stars adoring it. ‘Who knows if she wouldn’t face the same if married to Purab?’ She knows it’s the only way she can console herself that her life with Purab after a tie could also turn the same turmoil-mechanical ‘habit’! Her sight gets blurred as her eyes become wet with tears.

Weekends are the only days of the week Aditi is allowed to do whatever she wants to. The rest is dedicated to her office. But weekends --- strictly for her beloved cutie pie. Frolic visits to shopping malls and fun-rides on escalators or in elevators make the duo’s day a fulfilled one. Or even surprise dates to some nearby restaurants and grilling themselves in tasty milkshakes or ice creams just cannot have a substitute at all. Sometimes pleasure plans also roam around freaking amusement parks or movie theatres. This week Aditi decided to surprise Rohan with a visit to the city-zoo. Rohan was super excited to venture to a zoo for the first time with his mom. For him, nothing can be more fun and adventurous than a day out with his mother.

Aditi has successfully erased up little Rohan’s past memories with Sekhar and clambered the status of a single parent satisfyingly. She most significantly plays the role of both the father and a mother at a time without much difficulty. The best part is how easily she is always being able to switch over from one to the other and becomes the only faithful pole for her son in his own world of dreams. She dreams him to climb up the future with ease, de-struggled. Aditi believes Rohan is the best compliment to her life added as a part of her journey she has begun to move to the bigger slice of the life. She knows, Rohan will be the ever loyal partner of her life to reach to the challenges she has decided to take further. Her bundle of joy is the only one who through his innocent appeal and notoriety helps her instilling new hopes within, promising her dream world to be in reality soon. Rohan is presently the only reason for her to live.

The winter holidays at Rohan’s school started the day before. The following Saturday morning was little lazy being under the warm quilt. The thin mild sunbeam refracting through the glass slides of the adjacent balcony, bathed parts of the cosy bedroom. A few streaks touched Aditi’s closed eyes warmly too. She frowned and turned towards the table clock on the side table. Her half-closed eyes noted the time...Nine! Rohan was sleeping peacefully in the warmth of her breasts and the comfort of the wool quilt. She ran her fingers through his hair and planted her regular morning kiss on his forehead. Aditi got down off the bed and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. The newspaper was still hanging on door lock outside. A mug of hot coffee in one hand and a glass of milk on the other, Aditi raced inside the bedroom and tried waking up Rohan of his whining cries. She knew the bait of taking him outside would ignite little Rohan certainly.

Rohan was excited to see the crowd of people outside the zoo. It looked like a colourful fair, with balloon sellers and ice cream pedlars around. They took their turn in the queue and got inside the zoo. Almost after a long twenty years, Aditi made her way to the rendezvous. She still remembers how they had so much of fun visiting this place again and again every year during her childhood. Reminiscent of her early days, Aditi took Rohan to her favourite cage of the monkeys to the near left. The joy of relating all the animals to his scrapbook was clearly reflecting on his bright face and shining eyes. Every moment, Aditi fell for her lust of discovering this arc of smile on his lips and her return gift – surprise kisses from Rohan every now and then!

Being little tired after excited walks from cage to cage and exploring animals, the mother-son couple decided to hang on a few licks on their favourite ice cream cones and waddle near the bird cage. The blue peacock had just taken his valour to display his beautiful tail and mesmerise the visitors. Messy crowd with big eyes and astonished comments had sheathed the cage. Aditi was not able to let her little Rohan take a look at the beauty. Aditi along with Rohan was getting restless of having their eyesight trapped in the mob. People were getting busier to not miss a single moment of his stature. And so was the tall man with a hat on his head. He seemed to be a professional photographer from some magazine or so. Aditi twice and thrice tried to tap him on his back to move on the other side and let his son experience the wonderful sight of the peacock in his full bloom. But her strength could not win the rowdy crowd. Rohan turned a sulked face and looked at his mother.

‘Let’s not go there now. After a while we can again make it in there and enjoy the peacock and birds. Huh, Rohan?’  Instantly replied Aditi, trying to console her sad son, patting on his back.

‘But then the peacock will go to sleep. He will be tired and we will miss his dance!’, complained little Rohan being unsure of his mother’s promise.

‘Worry not dear. Momma will again make him dance. We will give him ice cream and he will show you his tail and dance. Doesn’t that sound cool? Huh?’ Aditi smiled and said and kissed on his button nose.

‘Hey ADITI!!’ a very known yet an unidentified male voice poked in the conversation.

Aditi looked up with her eyes broadened. As soon as she looked up, her eyes frowned in disbelief. ‘PUR-A-A-A-B???’ The silent scream in her heart echoed as she uttered the name.

‘The same sparkling eyes, the same messy jungle of hairs, the same bright shining smile and the same appeal in his voice’ --- her Purab after a decade. The only thing that has added to his attire is his unshaven beard, possibly to hide the dejection from life and love.

‘Chatterbox_4u’, that was how Aditi got introduced to Purab. The virtual world of fantasy and social networking relationships made the two young hearts meet in their college days. After a many prolonged chats for just two months, when they both surrendered to each other that they were getting addicted and possibly falling in some unnamed relationship they decided to  meet. The thin tall young Purab could only attract Aditi with his nonsense chirps and stupid jokes. The aimless Purab had only one reason to live in – his inexpensive camera. He always wanted to capture every moment of his life and steal the zest by his camera. And few stunts of Aditi’s wide dark eyes were also captured many a times casually. Every exciting learnt of Aditi’s life from smoking a cigarette for the first time to take a sip of beer or hanging out at the city’s darkest theatre to bunking college for the first time began with Purab’s assistance and guidance. Her first kiss or her first passionate goose bumps were also stimulated by the first touch of Purab on the first showers on an afternoon after the summers. ‘Purab’ though never would match to the significance of his name to many, but he was like a bright sunrise for Aditi. The first ‘name’ that would come to her mind to whom she could share her unspoken thoughts was always her capricious ‘Purab’. An uncalled longing used to tie the two for each other. It was Purab who even at the middle of a heavily raining night did never bother to race to the hospital when Aditi’s father was admitted for his cerebral attack. And it was he who at that crisis period of his life never even cared to donate his blood to her father. Father was saved. But tied was Aditi ---- with Sekhar ! Aditi was not even intimated about all the formalities her father had volunteered for her marriage to the handsome salaried Sekhar. It was too late for the jobless penniless Purab to woo Aditi’s father in some way for the marriage. Sekhar flew his newly married bride to the country’s most expensive city Chandigarh to settle down his life and wife.

A consistent gap of long ten years never seemed too much being absorbed in her newly married life. Purab faded away slowly like a setting sun and was left on the lees of her thoughts. Her unconscious mind did never let thoughts of Purab impinge in her newly made relationship with Sekhar. Being retarded by the fact, Aditi somewhere in her heart wanted her little Rohan to be as jubilant as Purab. Suddenly it knocked Aditi: ‘Purab is so silent! Where has gone that effervescent Purab? I miss you Purab’ her silent eyes struggled to speak aloud and reach his ears, ‘I missed you so much! Why couldn’t you come to take me away forever and ever with you?’

‘Does this little man belong to you?’ Purab broke the realms of Aditi. Rohan frowned to his mother due to the unnecessary poking by the stranger.

‘He is Rohan. My guardian!’ Aditi smiled mildly.

Rohan felt proud and looked with an incising eye to Purab.

‘Hey do you want this?...ummm..Mr. Rohan?’ tried to bribe the little boy with his shinning black camera still hanging round his neck.

Rohan’s face at once turned bright and blushing. He moved fast to him and very curiously asked, ‘What’s that Uncle?’

Aditi felt good somewhere inside. Her eyes were following the two, how her old sweetheart best friend was mingling with the kid bridging the new bond with his same old warmth and amity. She dipped in the sea of memories. She remembered the naughty leg pulls and stupid pranks on that afternoon at Purab’s house when his parents were out for a weekend trip. The prank turned to passion. She still remembers when she had closed her eyes and Purab softly planted his wet kiss on her velvet lips. Aback she opened her eyes; Rohan was still in the project of learning photography.

‘So now you are a celebrity? Huh?’ stroke Aditi with her words as they started to walk briskly to the zoo cafeteria.

‘ Naaaaa.... Come on! Nothing’s like that. Just that I have been hired by them. The company is big doesn’t mean I am big too...’ Purab squeezed an eye to Aditi.

‘And... ummmm... I mean... Family?’ Aditi uttered in a low voice. Aditi wanted to say ‘wife’ but promptly managed to replace the word with ‘family’.

‘Baba and Ma met with an accident three years back. Baba died there itself. Ma could not survive for more than two days. She had several organ failures due to the accident. Prabhu is now settled in the U.S. Last year he got married to an American lady. And me?... I am still striving through my hard earning bread and butter and.....’ Purab sighed. Aditi tried to post-mortem his silence.

‘...and...LIFE!!!’ replied Purab followed by a roar of laugh.

Something was missing in Purab. He laughs alike, but lifeless; he stares bright, but with queries; he talks words, a silence that is only heard! He is vacuum. Aditi several times tried meeting her eyes to Purab who kept himself involved with Rohan. Aditi wanted to answer his so long unrequited questions, but Purab was silent. Aditi wanted him to take her in his arms and hug her tight like before, like when she used to be in low mood; but Purab was indifferent. Aditi chinned down to concentrate on the pavement, her teary eyes blurred her sight. Her sobs wanted to burst out and overflow her heart and lungs. She felt heavy. She had mislaid Purab. She had left him astray. And she didn’t even know why she was lamenting today. It was she who could not go to the top of her father’s choice with the onset of her journey to her new life. She had lost him now forever. Purab had changed himself to like any other common person in her life, or a just a mere passerby on the same busy road --- ‘A known, but a stranger, all anon!’ Aditi tried hiding her tears rolling down her cheeks, as she closed her eyes to take a deep breath.  She looked at her front --- the site of the new bond and togetherness of Rohan and Purab exploring the camera ameliorated Aditi’s weep. She headed in haste to follow them to the cafeteria.

                                                                        ****

The Last Leaf

As usual she arrived as my watch showed the time to be sharp five in the evening. And inside I felt just so disgusted with her presence. An excessive talkative by her nature, and a lover to snack pack gossips of the locality, would never miss a single day to arrive in time in the park. I never understood the reason why Amma would always love to be charmed by her regular visits. She came almost hopping on her stick and took the same place to sit in haste beside Amma. In her very high powered specs and her regular white sari with a black border, she mumbled as if to leak out some extremely confidential fact, “you know Nilima, the new tenants who came to Dutta’s house are not married couples...”She continued her blabbering. I ignored her as usual, while Amma silently swallowed her chitchats with a mildly smiling face. Amma always gives her extra attention knowing about her life and history. As per as my knowledge, Pratimaji had been from a very rich family. Her husband was on a dairy firm business. They owned three to four bungalows in the prime places of Kolkata. After the death of her husband, her two sons stripped her of all properties and jewellery and left her starving with only a single room, which was formerly used as a store room, on the ground floor of one of their bungalows.

The park is just four buildings away from our house and it had been a regular practise for me to take Amma to the park by the advice of the doctor after her last heart-attack. I had been appointed since last two years to take care of her for the whole day from the nearby ayah centre. She is around mid seventies and a childless widow who loves me like her own granddaughter and hence I too cannot help myself falling for her and call her Amma since I have taken up this job. By now, I have been almost like her own relative and I am the only person possibly who actually knows and also keeps account of her medicines, important phone numbers, daily groceries and other small but vital things of life. I stay with Amma at her one storied house as also I have nowhere to go to after I had  been rejected by my in-laws by the missing of my husband. Hence I always believe, every end has its own and new beginning.

The park had been lately renovated and beautified too, by the grace of the new local counsellor. Thanks to the new government that they had at least thought to rack up their brains for such small things in the society which in reality are so important in the neighbourhood. Every evening, children gathered to come and play in the park.  A football coaching centre had also started aside with it. Evenings seemed to be a colourful fair each day, with lots of chirps and noises from every nook and corner of the park. One would also find different trolleys selling balloons and panipuris to tempt the visitors in the park by every means. There’s a lake by the greenery and beside it was a huge banyan tree. The serenity of the silent lake can bring peace to any hell of complications in life and the banyan tree stands on its roots to meditate beside the rippling water body all day long, for years. It seems to guard the lake and the park like the grandparent ever born. I have never seen except those two black swans, romancing in the water and playing hide and seek with each other. They at times remind me of my naughty episodes of flirting and being coy with my husband before marriage. Other migratory birds come in and go, nestle and again migrate to another new destination. The wintry weather left its signature with its chilling breeze and the full bloom gardens around. Few masons, at the end of their work, of the nearby upcoming building, tried to comfort themselves with a low bonfire, by the park. Abreast, was sitting the madwoman in her torn clothes, all clad in mud and dirt, reciprocating strangely with her insane happiness to the call and whistle of the masons. The local people call her “Pagli”. A sudden rabble instantly stole my notice inside the park. Amma asked me about the time by my watch. I knew the reason of her inevitable curiosity. Pratimaji had missed her visit to the park, along with her disgusting tales of the locality.

The pearly white moon clambered the starry sky and set its reign just above our balcony. The light-grey veins on its face reflected its hardships of having reached to its goal, amidst the vastness of the sky. The faded beam surrounded the white glowing ball like a promising mother. I starred at it with all my heart, and remembered my mother too. I don’t remember exactly her face, or how she used to look like. It had faded in my brain; only remains the bestowal of her memories in my heart forever. My memories regarding my mother are still alive only among her sleeping posture beside me at night, and the still lingering aroma of the lentil curry which she used to prepare and that I can smell anytime I close my eyes.  I had lost my mother when I was only twelve years old and my uncle took me to his house. There I was kind of appointed as a free of cost full-time domestic service. However I had never seen my father. People used to say, my father left my mother when I was in her womb, being wooed by some red-light area woman. I remember how the local street children taunted me about my father’s affair. Then I could not really understand what all that meant. Today I know it all. I sighed. I closed my eyes and tried erasing the facts instantly and save my brain. Nevertheless, my moon everyday comes over the balcony to romance with my memories and leaves me clairvoyant of my life ahead. And so was on that night, when I was again tantalised by the marijuana moon and was almost hypnotised by its beauty. Suddenly I heard a roar of laughter. Immediately I tried drilling the dark black beauty to search for the source. I again heard husky voices of men followed by a fading agonising hum, more precisely quite girlish. I tried to look for the noise around, but sadly enough that the lamp posts planted by the municipality just could not help me at all. “Mala.... Mala...” Called me Amma from inside. I left my moon alone amidst the pacific darkness and got inside the room to attend her.

The morning mist subdued the chilling dark night. The pallid fog around could be smelt fresh along with the flowers in my garden. The only plant which always looked sickly and almost leafless was my bald Tulsi. It was the oldest, but dearest to me. Like any other day, I had completed my bath and was watering my plants. A hoarse voice from beneath dismantled my concentration. I stooped over the balcony wall and found a police van parked below. A stout tall policeman again asked me in the same voice “75/A, Prakrit Residency. Can you tell which side? A new apartment still under construction...”
“I am not sure but I guess it will be on the left of the park. You can take straight to that way and reach the park.” I replied pointing towards the direction. And they drove the van away straight towards the park.

Then I understood why the evenings felt lame without the spicy gossips of Pratimaji. She had been absent for three consecutive days in the park. Even unconsciously I was also looking out for a kind of time pass and was missing her. I felt even more disgusted with the thought that I was missing her in reality; but somehow was little worried too as she used to visit the park so very regularly. Amma was sitting on a bench by the swing and I was constantly keeping an eye on the big gate if aunty would turn up. I suddenly realised the masons were also absent there except Pagli tossing on the ground. To my surprise I found a few parts of the apartment broken and messy, left in an adverse condition. Broken concrete rafters had fallen down on the piles of bricks and sand. It just cleared my curiosity. I understood, it probably was some initiative by the policemen who were asking me about that apartment in the morning. The tea-stall owner confirmed it was totally an illegal construction and hence the promoter had also been arrested. I, however, did not want Amma to inhale the chilling dry air anymore. It could even ravage her health conditions. And so I took her slowly to walk by the lane to reach home fast. Amma knew I hated Pratimaji and so she predicted if I would keep her request to peep into her house. As I unlocked the door of the house, I asked Amma to rest inside and left for Pratimaji’s house.

On my way to Pratimaji’s house, I found Pagli shivering by the side of the devastated apartment. She was lying on the rocky bed of stone-chips with her uncovered legs apart and her one arm on her forehead. Her over-brimmed curves were bulging out of her torn dress from here and there. She looked like an enchantress with no tension or hunger for life and sleeping a happy sleep thereafter. I tried to touch her head. My fingers got trapped in the jungle of her messy hair. I felt her tepid skin. I realised she was down with fever. I tried putting her torn cloth into some shape so that it could at least cover her bare body parts and comfort her from the ravaging cold weather. However Pratimaji was missing from her home, and I found her door was locked from outside. I tried looking up to find anybody on the first floor, but found none except a lit dim bulb in the balcony. I decided to take an about-turn to return to Amma. I looked at the sky and could not find my moon up there. Silence prevailed across the dark sky along with the locality. The lamp posts by the side of the lanes were glowing like tired machines.  I made my shawl tight to embrace myself with comfort. The freezing breeze pinned the skin to successfully penetrate the nerves inside. The bare ears and nostrils made it worsening to let in the cool air in the shafts and stir through the veins. My reflex compelled me to throw a peek as I approached the trashed Prakrit Apartments. To my astonishment, I could not find Pagli. My eyes tried searching her speck amidst the hide and seek of the depredated concrete pillars but they failed to find any. I made my pace faster to return back to Amma as the dinner time was already buzzing. Amma was still hooked in her favourite television soaps, as I unlocked the door.

The newspaper vendor threw the Bengali daily in a roll to the balcony and it struck the door. The sound woke me up. It was already so late in the morning. The cosy winter had made me sleep soundly the night before. I ran to the balcony fast to catch the vendor. His cycle was trailing behind in the lane. I screamed aloud to reach him faster “do you know anything about Pratimaji in the next lane?”...He shouted to reply “Hospit-a-a-al!!” He faded away with his speeding up bicycle. I was still glued to his leaving and my brain was trying to turn over the pages of reasoning and logic for what could have happened to the nosy woman in her seventies. I took a deep breath rolling over the train of my thoughts and I moved to get back inside the room.

Amma suddenly was down with fever since afternoon. I got scared being circumscribed by my superstitious thoughts. I just knew I could not lose Amma as she had been my sole soul and backbone since I left my so called “own house and family”. My Tulsi plant was also in a dehydrating condition. Regular watering it was also not helping it to grow. It has started shedding of its leaves and only a few are left there on its thin unhealthy stems. However, in such a poor health condition I did not let Amma to visit the park in the evening. Pratimaji had also stopped visiting the park after she had been hospitalised. Her health conditions were not at all very well. And in addition to that mental trauma was being supplied by her sons at every moment. It had been more than five months Pratimaji was kind of bed ridden and in which condition also she somehow could not manage herself to get even a maid to help her due to lack of money. Two times a day I made it a point to visit her. I prepared her food and also cleaned her room daily. I used to feel extremely bad about her condition and actually missed her chatterbox nature. She had been silent since then, except her twinkling eyes which wanted to share innumerable unshared words. I am always amazed when I find the best love and affection amongst them who possibly I never knew one day and finally I end up being stuck in the cobweb of such unknown relationships of happiness and its power. I bathed her and fed her with food and let her sleep comfortably on her bed.

The autumn or spring came in or not, the summer had already started to rule the season. The scorching sun seemed full energised to burn and penetrate the skin with its hot breath. The sultry season welcomed the month with hot blows and heat. I was already so tensed about Amma that I fasted my pace to almost run back to the house. To my utter surprise I found Pagli was sitting in the temple beside the park. From a distance I found her quiet and silent. As my brisk walk created noise by the friction of my sandals, she turned around on me. For the first time my eyes met her. I found her eyes glowing and watery. I suddenly realised, we never cared about Pagli for so many days that she was absent from the locality. I though knew I was getting late, but could not help myself without moving towards her. As soon as I reached her, she frowned at me. Her shapeless hair almost took a shape of a mesh. Her dark shinning skins were peeping out through her torn dress. Just that another new curve had been added to her body. I touched her abdomen. I, unnerved, found she was pregnant! My eyes were filled with water. I could probably sense the truth behind that. And hence I could presume what really happened on that night of the past winter season, when I heard a female-cry, that would have been probably nobody else other than her.

I could not sleep on that night thinking of Pagli and the future of the baby in her womb. Every time I had seen her wailing in her torn clothes, with no idea about what was going inside her. She could not even take the happiness of becoming a mother. I was afraid if she at all knew how to be a mother. Strangely enough, tears rolled down as my brain took enough time to rack on the fact. Pratimaji left us. She could not survive anymore amidst the tormenting conditions, both physical and mental. She fought so much for eight months to stay alive, to be alive. I felt equally emotionally bereft of her. There was even nobody found to do her crematoriums. The local chairman finally arranged for a priest to do it as welfare and charity. Amma though remained silent on the whole matter, but I knew, she had been rippling about everything inside her mind and brain. The only thing that was noticeable in Amma was her teary eyes. I knew it would take some time for Amma to recover from such sudden shock. It was around nine in the night, when I let Amma sleep in her bed after dinner. Amma did not take much time to fall asleep. I was neither feeling to have food. I sat in the balcony and stared at the night sky. The sky was so dark and cloudy that the moon seemed lifeless and stars seemed unborn ever. My mind started turning over the pages of its note-book and I was soaked in the memories of Pratimaji. I could not believe the woman whom I could never tolerate on any of the evenings in the park, left her small bag of money and few gold rings for my name. Unborn relationships grow unconditional, with only a few touches of care, time and love. The rains poured in asudden. It bathed me with drizzling drops but it could not force me to settle in the room. I felt the soul that rested in peace by then, was showering bliss for me. At a distance on the midst of the dark lonely lane, I could see only a few dogs running and fighting with each other, barking at times too, that was suppressed by the loud roaring of the lightning. The wet smell of rain and the muddy soak, made me feel nearer to the world of peace.

The following morning was fresh enough, indicating a new day of the new routine. The sunny bright sky had set its fair on the morning lows. Dismal enough, the last leaf of my bleak Tulsi plant had shed off. I felt so wistful that I could not save up my last hope of the plant. The newspaper vendor was getting extremely late and so I tried to throw my glance down the lane from the balcony to take a peek of him. Aside I found a few boys of the local club assembled. I tried getting clue what had happened. But I could not understand anything. Soon I found more local people joining them. I asked a passer-by about what had happened. “Somebody died last night. She’s lying on the road”, saying he walked off fast in haste.
The word ‘she’ doubtlessly pricked my mind with the worst of my anticipations. I never knew if what I was thinking would come true. I ran downstairs to reach the location hurried.

She was still lying in the middle of the road, with her torn dress inefficient to cover her full body like any other days and with her legs apart. People known-unknown surrounded her like a honeycomb mostly to see a few of her nude body parts. Streaks of blood and clots stained portions of her butt. She lay on the road in a way to happily take a rest. She was confirmed as dead. My last night’s shower of bliss cursed her for her innocence of being tormented by three unknown strangers who came to work as masons in the locality. And the punishment allotted to her was making her pregnant off her senses and then at the end of it, letting her labour on the lap of the wild night with the faithful guards like those barking street dogs. The child was safe. Somebody rescued the still very newborn girl, with an unknown fate from the den of the dogs. The club had decided to hand over the child to some orphanage. The closed eyes above her button nose did reflect her tiresome journey to this strange world. Her constant fast breathing craved for some drops of milk since her birth. I moved to the club-leader and said, “Dada, can I adopt the child?” The middle aged man smiled at me and agreed with my decision.

Today my Anamika is ten years old. She has been put to a good school in the city too. She is brilliant enough and is the darling of her granny and my Amma. Every day when I get to meet other parents of her school after the school is over, I feel proud to know that Anamika looks like me. I feel blessed and biased to become the mother of such an angelic daughter, an unborn relationship with so much of unconditional emotions and my cause to hope and dream about my last leaf of my life.

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