Chachu's Column #35: Of Have-not & Have-been Parents and their doctors

It has been more than six months since I wrote the last column. This column started on a fortnightly basis, with some even dispatched within a week. With changing times, the unwritten rule of writing this column was about once a month. But this time, familial demands and general lethargy saw me letting me each month pass, probably with lesser pain or agony. It hurt the first time. But then it became a habit. So when three become four or four became six, it just did not hurt any more. In the past, such interruptions were marked by reminders from well wishers, who thought it was my duty to write and reminded me of the same. But this time there were hardly any such interludes even though half of 2005 had disappeared; only recently, a friendly soul dropped a one-liner inquiring about my health and the health of this column. But then, I was to board a train to drop my spouse and new born to my mother-in-law's place. When the job was done, and I was left to ponder over the memories of what transpired in last six months, I knew it was time this column was resurrected to give the anxious souls some peace.

It was as if it was yesterday when I was pacing the aisle of the local hospital where my spouse was admitted-in the operation theatre, and where I eagerly awaited for the first cries of my baby. And as Gods had destined, there was hardly a family member around because within minutes, my brother's marriage party (baraat) had to depart for the marriage venue, and everyone was assembled there. The baraat was in full cry with band party drumming and marching ahead. But my father was anxious. How would be the baby? What if something untoward happened?

The lady doctor had promised a delivery within 10 minutes. But it was now more than sixty. All through the day, she provided my wife courage to hold on and persist. The prolonged labour pains had taken a heavy toll on my wife who was unable to bear the pain any longer. The yet to be born baby (that was to bring millions of smile to us) had became a load too heavy to bear. I was merely a mute spectator and realized why the baby belonged to the mother. For sure!

Attendants and nurses kept moving in and out of the operation theatre. I wanted to know what was happening but no help was forthcoming. Then, one of attendants obliged by saying that the labour had stopped and the patient had no energy left. I wondered at the miraculous process of how babies were born, naturally, without artificial cuts to the womb. Our doctor was famous for her ability to avoid the knife. While it was rumoured that in order to make quick money many private clinics made the patient go through the knife without a sincere attempt, this doctor was different; presumably so. The shouts of the doctor could be clearly heard outside - egging my wife to give one final push. Try once more! Try once more! Try once more!

And then it happened - the first cries of my baby. Just like they show in movies where the first cry of the baby is followed by the maid running in and yelling, "Mubarak ho, aap dada ban gaye (Congratulations, you have become a grand father)!"

The doctor's husband, who ran the hospital, saw my anxiety and took me inside where I had the first look of my baby. It was a boy. All through the pregnancy, I had surmised that I was having a baby girl. Call it premonition, but that was indeed the case. The pervasive female foeticide had meant that the doctors did not reveal the sex of the baby no matter what. My rather modern mother had promised a grand celebration for a boy. The festivities ensuing birth of a baby girl were left unstated. I always asked her, why she being a woman, favoured a boy. She could never give me a convincing answer (an answer which I later got my self). But she always confirmed that I was going to have a boy. Thus, when a boy was born, I presumed that my religious mother, through her mystical powers, had changed the sex of my baby when it was taking shape in its mother's womb.

The phones were ringing every minute, both from my mother now dancing in the baraat, and my mother-in-law, enquiring about the status. And when the much-awaited news was divulged, the marriage bands only grew louder. Currency notes were doled out without much thought. And the news of a grandson meant my mother's joy knew no bounds. Even the gold ornaments were not spared and some beneficiaries became instantly richer by few tolas of the shining metal.

In the mean while, I was taken by the doctors for the first look. The baby was soaked in blood and was being cleaned. The very first look was one of disbelief; I was trying to establish the link. The mother had a natural connection; but what about the father? I tried to tell myself that it was my child - but the paternal bond required more time. Soon, I was handed over the child to be taken to the room for the mother and the child. The baby had a slightly elongated head and I wondered whether everything was alright. But there was nothing to worry. Soon, a tired yet relieved mother joined and the family was complete.

While the marriage party continued, I only gave a brief appearance where congratulations rained from all quarters. And before people realized, I was back with my family. And within 24 hours, after a short and simple sojourn at the hospital, we were back in the confines of our house.

To start with, I was very apprehensive about my baby. I feared that an untidy hand could make my baby sick. Thus, I did all I could to prevent people from touching him. I even did not go to office for two weeks just to ensure that the first fortnight, I was there when the child and the mother needed me most. Then there was the Jalwa function (celebration of birth of baby!) where everyone got a chance to cuddle my baby. I wanted to prevent it, but I was helpless. Nothing happened though.

Slowly, my wife regained strength. It seemed that childbirth took all energies from the mother's body. But there was gradual recovery.

I also learnt many many things. I learnt that it was not as bad as it seemed because kids however delicate had their own immunity. I also learnt how God naturally provided mother's milk for the baby. How the cries of the baby resulted in natural flow of mother's milk. How some kids had their mother's milk till the age of six, while some did not know or like the milk at all. I learnt how the babies did not have their skull joined to start with and how the gap closed with the passage of time. How babies could not hold their neck or even their back till quite some time. Every few weeks there was a new learning - the problem of jaundice or the routine vaccination.

Some of us have already gone through this while others will go through this. Each baby brings his share of joys. Mine brought too. One may ask how was my first experience. I would say that the birth of my princely baby 'Raj' was not an experience. It was the beginning of a life time of experiences - the latest of them being his ability to get up if you hold his hands slightly and pull it gently. His ability to apply force and get up is indeed a sight. Or for that matter seeing him hold a toy in his hand for a minute or two. Simple things but a treat to watch - so pure, so innocent ...

Chachu 18/07/2005

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