A piercing gust of wind shook the branches of the Gulmohar tree above; the heavy raindrops falling from the leaves on her. Wiping her eyes with drenched sleeves, tucking her long hair under her dupatta, she opened the gate of the hospital, fumbling in the blurry light of the vehicle. Inside, on the rear seat lay another woman clad in a saree, obviously in pain. The thunder too empathized with the shrieking woman, roaring as lightning tore through the sky.
“Bas, Radhika, we are here,” consoled the memsaab.
Back in bungalow no. 6, the Akhand paath was underway. It was a family tradition of the Mehras to celebrate Anahad’s birthday each year this way. In spite of the Dillighat bridge having caved in, their friends were present for the celebrations. In the jaali kamra, Anahad sat pouring ghee into the hawan kund. The paath was to continue until the next day when he would turn six.
Vikram, the cook with help of his wife, Radhika, carried in a big bowl of kheer, prasad and a few more banana leaves as the priests had requested. There was hustle-bustle in and around the house. Even Sharad, the four-year-old sibling was excited beyond measure. He would discreetly pick up a handful of prasad, for Crunchy, who gobbled it up gleefully, wagging her fawn-coloured tail thanking her ideal partner in crime.
As the daylight faded, Crunchy’s excitement gave way to anxiety. She hid under the sofa, whimpering softly. Dark clouds soon gathered carrying with them a warning that a storm would brew. “Radhika, settle baba log in their room and take off,” Monu instructed. Radhika, pregnant at the time, was relieved to have an early day off.
They heard the trees creaking and saw the limbs of the huge litchi tree strain against the onslaught of the speedy wind. The rain deluge followed soon. The Panditjis remained equanimous, fully immersed in the rituals. Even the power cut did not deter them. But for Anahad’s dad, Anup, who was the mistri saab, it was a different scenario. He had to check the connections and be with the electricians. He anticipated a host of other troubles that usually accompanied a storm. Even the tea manufacture beckoned him.
The cook too, took some time off to check on his wife. Only a few moments had passed when he returned to the verandah, frenzied. “Memsaab, memsaab! Please help! My wife is very unwell.” Monu immediately knew that things were awry. She knew that she could count on her friends to hold the fort while she was away. Monu consoled Vikram but could read a frozen panic in his eyes. They rushed back to check on Radhika to see that she was extremely uncomfortable. It seemed that she was in labour.
“We have no time to lose. Get her to the vehicle,” Monu said as she headed back into the garage and reversed her van, the windshield wipers working desperately. Vikram helped Radhika onto the rear seat of the van and cycled off to the doctor’s bungalow. Many uprooted trees blocked the roads. Monu had to detour trusting her intuition to choose the right path. As she drove through the pluckers’ colony, she saw the aftermath of the storm. Few of their houses had their entire roofs ripped off.
The headlights swept over the porch of Borhat Tea Estate hospital, making it come alive for a passing moment. She honked, but to no avail. With Radhika’s every contraction, came the pain that dominated her entire being. “We are here…just hold on,” Monu consoled her as she jumped out and swung the gates open.
She helped Radhika out of the vehicle. “Just a few moments,” she consoled Radhika as she guided her by her arms. The dark stormy night was turning into the wee hours of the morning. She had hoped that Radhika would be under the expertise of the medical team. But clearly, God had other plans that he was not being subtle about. The evening nurse had finished her shift and left early anticipating a storm. Monu heard a splash and turned to see that Radhika’s water bag had burst! Monu stood there wondering how to handle the situation in the best possible way.
Suddenly, as if a magical spell had been cast, there was brightness all around. The electricity was restored. She knew now that the angels would guide them. With the help of a few patients, she carried Radhika to the maternity room who lay on the surgery table with almost no awareness. Radhika pushed with a guttural grunt and Monu saw the baby crowning.
All this while Monu had been putting up a brave front. Though she herself was a young mother of two through c-sections, these circumstances overwhelmed her. “Be brave,” she chided herself. “Delivering a baby is the most natural phenomenon,” she motivated herself. Without further effort, the baby slid into Monu’s hands wailing. Monu held the baby girl by her legs, head dangling down trying to mimic the scenes she had seen on TV and in books. But she was at a loss about the next step.
In walked the nurse, soaked to the skin but nevertheless on time. She rushed towards Monu and clamped both the sides of the umbilical cord of the baby. She requested Monu to fetch the sterilized scissors and cut the umbilical cord of the baby. Radhika, overcome with emotion, held her newborn as she looked at Monu with reverence in her eyes, who she considered her saviour angel. “Iska naamkaran aap kariye, memsaab.”
“Devika…” said Monu smiling as she returned to the bungalow just in time to wind up the Akhand paath. The sun peeked through the horizon, carrying with it the gift of a rainbow for both the birthday babies, that morning of 20th September 1996.
Glossary:
Memsaab: Ma'am
Akhand paath: Prayer or puja that continues for 1-2 days
Hawan kund: Sacred fire
Jaali kamra: A room with netted walls to keep insects at bay
Kheer: Rice and milk pudding
Prasad: Pious offering to God
Baba log: The kids (male) of the saabs and memsaabs
Mistri saab: Factory assistant
"Iska naamkaran aap kariye, memsaab": "Please do the honour of naming her, ma'am."
It's hard to put in words what I felt, but I loved it. I love the Indian touch you give to your stories. The things I took away from this story were courage, faith and good will.
Another very well narrated series of incidents revolving around that stormy night.It was really gutsy of Monu to rise up to the occasion n to take charge of the critical situation of her bearer's wife amidst bad weather n rainy night with electricity disrupted all over.In that critical situation she kept her wits about n became the saviour of the mother n child. Most planters wives bemome adept at managing many difficult situation n acquire admistrative skills being a helping hand, running shoulder to shoulder fulfilling responsibilities which come their way in the life style they lead . Compassion shown by Monu was heartening . Conincidence of the birthday of the new born Devika n traditional birthday celebration of h…
Beautifully penned story Nandita 👍🏻🥂Bravo to the lady(Monu) for her immense courage and empathy👏👏👏
Mesmerising as always 👏👏👏👏
There’s always a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
Another mesmerising piece of dazzling prose from your pen, Nandita!!