In a Metro……….

The August night was frightening, confusing, perplexing ……………… Hot, humid, sweaty ……………………………..

The room was pleasant, comfortable, properly lit and professionally decorated in muted, soothing hues of beige, gold and taupe, tapestries artfully draped, artifacts tastefully displayed ….. Everything oozed style and grace, The Effortless elegance and oomph of old money ………….. Inherited through generations, mere mortals can only think, or write about. A Room, about to witness the first birth …………

The loudest, Metro-Bus-Politan, city …. of the land of the pure was in complete darkness, thanks to power outage, energy crisis was at its peak and on that particular night, the shortfall in electricity production was more than many thousand,  mega-fucking-watts.

She whimpered in pain, and clenched her fists tightly, her bitten, brittle nails dug deep  into her palms, with no luck lines, and left marks ………….. In a small, suffocating room, she cried and lied on a Charpoy ….. waiting for the self- trained midwife, who lived a few streets away ……. Her water broke that evening, soiling her thin legs, swollen feet and mended chappals ………….. she was soon to be crowned with the title of motherhood, with the heavens promised under her cracked soles ……….……..for the very first time.

The foreign qualified doctor, with a receding hairline, kind eyes, years of expertise, excellent bedside manners and  an obnoxiously high fee, received a frantic call, and rushed to the help of the pampered primigravida, who seemed to be in preterm labor…………….. They could bring her to the hospital, he thought, but those with the means and charms, can amend the world to accommodate their whims. He parked his shiny BMW in the vast porch, of the huge house, illuminated by a noiseless, 50 KVA generator …….. was greeted and escorted to the classy room, where she squirmed, and braved the contractions ………..

Sweat poured out from every pore of her body, like tears from her eyes, the excruciating pain was recurring at regular intervals, and she could feel pressure building down below, she heard the horrible sound of a Quin Qui rickshaw, and was relieved to see the local Dai entering the room,  the jittery, agitated, middle aged woman fumbled with her pulse, palpated her protuberant tummy, and poked two bare fingers inside her to check the ripeness of cervix, wiped her hands with the bed sheet, and turned back to close the door she left ajar ………….

The diligent doc was well familiar with his patient who had regular ante natal visits, he made sure her vitals were stable, before a gloved hand internal examination, ensuring full privacy and dignity, and administered adequate analgesia. He reassured the anxious family and reassessed his precious patient at regular intervals.

The young girl in the dark room with a made in china, cheap, rechargeable LED light was scared to death, she remembered the day she was married off to someone twice her age, she thought about the cold, brutal, wedding night, the icy water she had to have a bath with in the shared bathroom, before all the other family members got up ………… she was frightened of fate,  the fear of committing the unforgivable sin, of producing a daughter, ran shivers through her spine …………….

The Birth, by Freydoon Rassouli.

 

The spoiled brat was an example of patience at that time, beautiful teary eyes looked at the kind and gentle doctor and his calm attendant and knew, they were there to help ……………. And make things easy ……… Their presence was promising…………….

After a Couple of hours ……….

The midwife dragged out the limp, low weight, purplish red piece of human life from her birth canal, while she urged her to push harder, punctuating her commands with appropriate profanities, and finally retrieved the product of conception. There was no cry of joy by the baby, just the ear piercing screams of the mother……………… she cut the cord with a rusty pair of scissors and vigorously patted at the blood and amniotic fluid stained back of the new born …… The mother was breathing heavily …. completely and utterly exhausted ……………………..

As Salat O’ Khair um Minan Naom ……………………………… The call of morning prayers echoed ……………….

La Ilaha Illalla, Muhammad ur Rasool Allah …………… The mother read, instinctively, as the electricity came back after thirteen hours and the ceiling fan started ……………… She was relieved and grateful, the joy of having the “Bijli” Back, was immense. She felt strangely content …………. when the Dai handed her dead daughter over to her, she gingerly looked at the lifeless face and closed her eyes, and wished to forget the whole ordeal ……….………………………………. The tired, sleepy, Mid wife, refused to take the few crumpled notes, that were handed over to her, she put the placenta and cord in a plastic bag and dumped it beside the trash can, on the corner of the street….. On her way home.

The Vet, Graciously and politely accepted the cheque with a six digit figure before he very carefully and gently delivered the whole litter. All the pedigreed pups were examined, weighed, wiped, and named thoughtfully ….. The mother was allowed to chew the cord and eat bits of the placenta to promote bonding with her offspring. They all had better chances of getting proper food, vaccination and care than the nameless dead girl, being buried at a nearby graveyard, wrapped in her mother’s  frayed dupatta………….…………..

She never took a breath in this cruel world, so she wasn’t supposed to get a proper funeral…………….

P.S: Women killed in the name of honor, for daring to breathe with their own free will, are also buried coffin less, their Namaz-e-Janazah seldom offered.

Seemi.

10th, January, 2014

©BoldieTalks. 

(Re Published For A to Z Challenge on 10th April, 2014)

Image Used: “The Birth” By Freydoon Rassouli.

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14 thoughts on “In a Metro……….

  1. And, who knows, the ‘human’ mother might have thanked ‘Allah’ later, for giving her a dead ‘daughter’! Her in-laws might have also been relieved to hear that the daughter is already dead.

    My best wishes to the other ‘mother’ on giving birth to a litter of healthy offspring.

    If this story is sent to a Blog competition anywhere in the world, it should win a prize. You are not making us any happier with your blogs, Doctor Sahiba.

    Like

  2. I do not have words to express how wonderfully you have drawn a line between TRUTH and Hippocratic Society.. the line which distinguishes “Poor n Lower Humans” from the “Higher Animals”.

    I never ever imagined the pain your words brought for any woman as I felt for this mother who gave birth a dead girl. This world is wilderness where Tears are Hung on Every Bunch Of Every Tree..!!!

    Very Well Knitted Seemi..! (Y)

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  3. corrosive satire, naked reality, paradox ,irony all knitted n handled like an adept writer..the very line “the call for morning prayer echoed” reminds me Tehmina Durrani”s “Blasphemy”…very well done

    Like

  4. corrosive satire, irony, paradox, naked reality n a bit of stream of consciousness effect touch, technically a very well handled… “the call for morning prayer echoed” this line reminds me of “Blasphemy” by Tehmina Durrani

    Like

  5. Pingback: Labor in a Metro………. | myviews007

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