Unconditional Love: A Novel Based on True Events

By Vivienne Eesha

This novel is based on true events of an effeminate boy named Aarav, who was sexually, physically, and emotionally abused as a child by the people he knew and trusted. Unconditional Love is a journey of a well-educated boy who became a doctor and an ambassador for the HIV prevention and human rights. All he wanted was love and solace, but because of his past, he only found lies and deceit from his numerous partners. They always blamed him for being abused. He claimed his sorrows and went into a world of silence. With time, his femininity blossomed into beautiful Arohi. His transgender avatar provided temporary relief, and she eventually found love and control of her destiny. As she tried to overcome the demons of her past, she was diagnosed with HIV.
Why did you give me all this pain my Lord, she prayed. What wrong did I do? Where had I erred?
She went into depression and attempted suicide.
She had gone through so much pain as a child; will this revelation destroy her or make her into a stronger individual?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Dec 5, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496994172

Vivienne Eesha

Vivienne Eesha is the pseudonym of the author. She is a qualified medical doctor and currently works in viral research in the United Kingdom. She is experienced in the clinical and public health aspects of sexual health and sexually transmitted infections, HIV medicine and virology. She has worked extensively in the Asia/Pacific region and was instrumental in removing stigma and discrimination towards HIV by engaging and progressively working in collaboration with stakeholders by creating awareness and dialogue at all levels on how to best respond to the challenges of the epidemic. She has also worked for the International Labour Organization, Commonwealth Parliamentary Association and the Global Assembly for the Parliamentarians. “Unconditional Love” is her first novel inspired by true events and experiences that she went through personally and the lessons she learned professionally.

Book preview

BLACK FRIDAY

12:45pm. Friday the 13th of June 2008.

Outside the House of Fraser, London, UK.

[SMS exchange between Amar and Aarav]

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This text changed the way Arohi viewed the world and the word ‘love’ forever. The only man she thought would stand up and fight the world for her, turned against her. Her own brother abandoned her when she needed him the most.

She was so wrong to think that he would hold her in his embrace and say; Hey, everything is going to be ok my little one.

One by one; like her brother, all the men in her life who promised their love and protection, left her when she needed them the most…some because of her fault and others due to the unforeseen circumstances and their own shortfalls.

THE NIGHTMARES

T he sound was unbearably deafening and scary. She could not bear to hear it anymore. The footsteps became louder with each passing moment. Arohi looked around but could not see anyone, yet the footsteps were getting cl oser.

With her heart rate going into tachycardia, she cupped her ears in her palms and ran frantically for cover in the cold and stormy night. There seemed no place to hide. Arohi wished she could just melt into the tropical downpour.

She was completely drenched and shivered with cold. She continued to run and then as if by some miracle, the raindrops began to feel warm. She looked up at the twilight skies and closed her eyes. She immersed herself in the warmth of the rising sun as she felt the warm raindrops pelting her face. It felt good.

Suddenly the raindrops felt sticky and Arohi could not open her eyes. She tried to wipe off the thick slime and open them forcefully.

The world around her appeared crimson in the morning hue. As if trapped in quicksand, she began to slip away into the pool of blood. She closed her eyes quickly and cried for help.

The footsteps got even closer and louder. She could even smell him. The smell was pungent; like charred human flesh. She looked around but he was nowhere to be seen. The smell was nauseating and made her wretch.

Arohi opened her eyes once again and noticed thick smoke everywhere. She could not see anything. She brought her hands closer to her face and noticed that the smoke was actually coming out of her hands. She looked closely. The skin of all her fingers was completely burnt, exposing charred flesh and bones.

Her whole body was on fire. She yelled for help but no sound came out of her throat. The thick smoke had completely engulfed her. She began to choke and coughed in panic.

With a last gasp of breath, she screamed.

HELP!

PRESENT DAY - LONDON, UK

A flash of bright light filled the room and before Arohi could comprehend, the entire room shook with loud thunder. The world around her began to spin. The redness, the footsteps and the smoke had all disappeared and for a few moments, she felt numb as she tried to orientate her self.

Groggily she pulled herself up on the bed. Darkness once again shrouded the room as sweat drenched her forehead and trickled down her temples. She was trembling and could feel her heart thumping inside her chest wall. Closing her eyes, Arohi reassured that everything was going to be alright. She opened them and squinted towards the halo in the window.

The pieces of the puzzle began to fall slowly into place.

Another of the horrible nightmares!

Arohi tried to calm herself down through the chills by controlling her breathing by deep inspiration and expiration; an exercise, which she had learned during one of the Yoga class’s a long time ago.

It’s going to rain. She thought. Really heavy.

Another flash of bright light filled the entire room, almost blinding her. She closed her eyes momentarily. A deafening clap of thunder followed.

She slowly brought out her hands from under the blanket and fumbled for the bedside porcelain base. A touch lamp instantly lit up to her gentle touch. Her eyes ached as she tried to accommodate the warm light. She closed her eyes instantly and then reopened them slowly.

The fog began to lift gradually and she moved her gaze towards her left wrist, rotated it clockwise, and stared at the black round face of her watch – a vintage, collector’s edition Rolex that had been a gift from Arnold.

She had other watches; in fact, more than a dozen but this one was special as it always reminded her of the special bond that Arnold and she had once shared.

By wearing that watch, she desperately yearned to preserve those happy times she once had with him forever. The big round face reflected her visage in it and instead of flashing those happy times; the lifeless watch only brought immense emotional pain.

There was something strange in the reflection. A difficult entity no one could define. The youth from the face was drained. One could easily count the number of lines, each telling tales of its own.

Feeling awkward at the thought of seeing a stranger in the reflection, she blinked and then looked beyond the glass.

At that moment, the arms on the watch indicated an equally awkward hour.

21:51.

Arohi sighed and fell back into the bed and looked directly up at the ceiling and began to study the lines made by the strokes of the paintbrush, as if trying to figure out some kind of pattern the painter had in mind. She could not make out any logical design.

Disappointed, she looked at the wall straight ahead. A framed picture of her mum and dad taken during her graduation ceremony, with her standing in the middle, adorned the wall. Her dad had a very proud smile while her mum stood there elegantly in a cream and maroon colored ‘sari’. (A female garment consisting of a drape varying around six meters in length and a meter and half in breadth that is typically wrapped around the waist, with one end draped over the shoulder, baring the midriff and is worn by Asian Indian women).

Her cheeks twitched briefly before contorting into a smile. She closed her eyes, trying to imprint the images from the hidden memory files of that fine November afternoon.

She could still sense the excitement. She could hear the graduates running around in their black gowns, waving their certificates and awards looking for professional photographers.

Arohi could even smell the freshness of the ‘garland of roses’ that Abel had made for her. She shook her head gently from side to side, opened her watery eyes to scan the room without tilting her head. Decorated according to her personal taste, the rich décor, expensive art works, high ceiling and the satin sheets on the bed were some of her favourites.

The Britannica Encyclopedia, though long outdated; was stacked nicely on the side shelves and on the far end were a Sony entertainment stereo and a built-in home theatre system.

Her gaze then settled on numerous picture frames on the side table. All the people who ever touched her heart were captured within the silver and glass frames. It was another of her attempts to hold them back. To keep them all close to her forever. They were her angels and she always wanted them to be close to her.

Her favourite frame was that of Hector and her taken outside ‘Musee du Louvre’ in February 2014. Everyone who saw that snapshot always commented how gleeful and happy she appeared with him.

Hector came in her life like a subtle breeze and took her by storm with his Greek charisma. He inspired her beyond words and held her when she had lost all hope and desire to live. A lump rose in her throat and her eyes began to swell with tears. She swerved her gaze away, trying her best not to cry.

"Stop your boohoo boohoo," Hector would always tell her and then would hold her in his muscular embrace to let her cry on his shoulders. Hector and Arohi had shared a unique bond. He regarded her as one of his best friends and part of his family in London. She regarded him as her love, her life, her everything. Apart from Abel, she had never loved anyone as much as she loved Hector. Hearing his name made her heart race. Getting text messages from him made her ecstatic. His touch made her diaphragm rise, making her breathing heavy and she would moan in pleasure. His embrace was simply bliss.

Apart from one occasion when she opened her heart to him and told him how much she loved him, Arohi never spoke of her adoration for him ever again. She made a solemn promise to him on Valentine’s Day. She knew very well how much Hector hated the ‘lovey dovey’ stuff so she chose never to speak of her immense love for him again. She always appeared aloof and distant but deep inside; Hector was the only person she loved and cared for. He had become the reason why she chose to live again. She never showed it to him. She depicted a picture of herself that Hector wanted to see.

‘Greeks were direct descendants of the Gods," He would tell her and she believed him. To Arohi, Hector was a God sent angel. He was Adonis to her and Arohi often compared her love for him as a prayer.

My love for you is unconditional. She had written to him. I do not expect you to love me back in return the same way I do to you. By loving you, I am by no means expecting you to reciprocate. I have come to love you because of who you are and God forbid, if tomorrow for any reason, you decide to dislike me; my love for you will never wither. If I placed conditions, then my love for you would not be true devotion but a mere selfish business transaction. Whether you like me or not, love me or hate me, my love for you will always be the same. We all believe in God. We all pray to God. However, God hardly reciprocates. Does that ever stop us from loving the God or ever stop us from saying our prayers? No! My love for you is the same, pure and true, Hector.

Arohi’s chest felt heavy and she yearned for Hector’s embrace. Apart from the lifeless picture, which stared back at her, Hector too, like all the others, came into her life, imprinted his legacy and left.

Her heart felt heavy and she felt tears begin to pool up. She once again closed her eyes.

I will not cry.

She said repeatedly in her head and tried to stay composed. Arohi opened her eyes and restarted stocktaking of her surroundings.

Her gaze settled on several miniature flags from around the world, which swayed in the gentle breeze. Forty-seven of them were nicely displayed on a side table.

She loved collecting things. First, it was postage stamps. During her primary school days, she had collected nearly a thousand stamps before they got wet and ruined during one of the cyclones. At university, she began to collect phone cards and did not know when she decided to let go of that too. Arohi gave away her collection to friends and other people who were looking for them.

Then she started collecting miniature flags and small currency notes of countries that she visited. She also took interest in collecting airline models on which she had traveled. A sideboard in the far corner proudly displayed her elegant fleet of twenty-six miniature designer metal jets.

Arohi blinked, as her eyes felt gritty then turned her head; her eyes still searching around and finally resting on an empty leather sofa on the other end of the spacious room. Once there were so many people in that room, all happy and laughing. Some singing, some talking loudly, while others just enjoying their drinks and dancing to the rhythm of the latest dance hits.

The room was much smaller, brighter and decorated. Arohi saw him standing at the far end, right at the door with a bottle of beer. As always, he looked very dashing. He stood tall, taller and broader than anyone else did in the room. He smiled and winked at her. She smiled back and shied away.

Arohi looked up again and stared at the semi lit void in the room and felt her heart race. Her eyes desperately searched around. They were all gone. Vanished in thin air. Every single one of them disappeared.

No laughter. No music.

The room suddenly felt eerie and very cold. Her chest felt heavy and tears began to flood the eyes as she desperately fought back her emotions. She recalled her promise to him.

I promise that I will never cry.

Arohi recalled their concerns. First, it was Abel then Vincent, followed by Haider, Arnold, Hector and ultimately Jasper. They all loved seeing her happy. They disapproved of her tears. She promised each of them that she would never be weak nor would she ever give up hope.

Arohi placed her hands over her eyes and pressed on the eyelids trying to avoid the unthinkable. Despite her desperate attempts, the relentless tears found its way and cascaded down her cheeks. She sniffled and wiped it off with the tip of her middle and forefingers. Her chest still felt heavy. She turned her head away and looked at the open window as a gust of cool wind brushed against her face.

She gently closed her eyes and tried to pull the sheet over her head but could not seem to find strength any more. Arohi turned her head, facing away from the open window and the cold gusts of wind.

Then it came pouring down in torrents.

She turned back to the window and felt sprays of rain on her face. It felt good. Arohi took a deep breath trying to absorb the freshness. Within minutes, the skies began to pour its heart out. She listened to the heavy drops on the pane.

Through the halo in the window, she could see the London skyline dancing in unison with the flashes of lightening. The distant thunder added rhythm to the orchestra of natural sounds, and she could make out a familiar tune and began humming.

Arohi pulled her hands from under the sheets, ran the fingers through her long hair and made small circular movements. It felt good. She made bigger circles and then moved her hands over her face and neck. It felt therapeutic. Her eyelids began to droop as the raging storm clouds shrouded the skies.

AN ODE TO HIM

A violent roar of thunder rattled the windows, making her jump.

Wow! That must have been really close. Arohi exclaimed as she stirred in bed and moved closer to Jasper.

What happened? He asked and pulled her even closer. Arohi looked at Jasper and snuggled under his masculine warm torso. She held tightly onto him.

You scared of that? He smiled and moved on his side and held Arohi’s face in his right hand.

Nope! She retorted confidently. I am not scared of anything when I am with you. Not even death.

Never speak of death. You know I hate that word. He scorned. "I can’t imagine my life without you ‘Jaanu’ (my life)."

Do you really love me that … before she could finish the sentence, he sealed her lips with his.

Jasper stroked Arohi gently and looked at her. He smiled as she looked back into his dark brown eyes.

Perfectly carved without an error, with a squared chin, deep-set eyes; he had thick black eyebrows. He sported small stubbles and had a clean-shaven head adding to the beauty of his naturally tanned muscular body.

I must be the luckiest girl in the entire world to have found a man like him who loves me so much. She thought.

He kissed her lips again and pulled her upwards holding her tightly in his embrace. She moved her face over the soft tuft on his chest feeling the warmth and solace in his protective embrace. She closed her eyes and listened to the soft thumping of his heart.

What are you thinking? He quizzed

Um… She pulled away and looked up into his eyes. The rain.

What about the rain?

Nah! Nothing. She smiled as she nestled back into Jasper’s caress.

He stretched his left arm and let Arohi rest her head on it and then he placed his right arm over her and pulled her closer. He turned clockwise and placed his head next to hers.

The sound of raindrops on the windowpane was music to her as she basked in the warmth of his immense love. Fog and dark clouds were overcast all over as far as her eyes could see. The nearby trees swayed in the stormy winds.

Rain and storm! She thought. Isn’t it strange? It has become an integral part of my life. Every emotion; happiness or sorrow accompanies rain; some as drizzles, others as torrential storms.

She always blamed it on the month of February, the wettest month of the year when she was born or perhaps, simply for being an Aquarian.

An Aquarian she was indeed.

The water bearer - giver of livelihood. She was born to save lives. To be there for everyone.

Like water; so serene in the lakes and gentle flow of the rivers, it easily takes shape and form of the vessel it is placed into. From cold glaciers to steaming vapour, the living world would wilt without it and yet when enraged, it can form the most devastating of forms causing mayhem. Arohi’s life was the same.

Rain! It never fails me.

She thought and snuggled back into Jasper’s arms and drifted into the land of dreams as the storm outside continued.

THE BEGINING

Sunday February the 7th 1971.

I t was the heaviest rain for many years, Aarav was told. Little puddles ran in murky streams, which flowed furiously into creeks and rivers, breaking its banks and submerging crops and low lying a reas.

Will this bloody rain ever stop? Surya cursed as he looked outside the window and pressed the little battery operated transistor radio close to his ear. The radio kept losing signal and would crackle into ghastly silence with every flash of lightning.

On the hour, every hour, as promised, the BBC local service announced about everything other than the brewing storm. There was almost half hour coverage on the Apollo 14, 3rd U.S. manned space expedition, which had landed on the moon two days earlier. Alan Sheppard and Edward Mitchell took their four hours walk of fame on the lunar landscape. Surya Prajapati could not understand why the fifteen-minute local news should inform people in their small island nation about the impending Vietnamese invasion of Laos, instead of giving updates on local weather bulletin.

The world has gone crazy, he complained and switched the radio off and took a little walk across the small living room.

Kavya had known over the years not to say a word when Surya was in a bad mood and it seemed Aarav’s siblings too understood this general concept as well.

It was a quarter to seven in the evening and was already dark outside. Kavya was sitting on the floor pressing Amar’s school uniform with a ‘benzene iron’ while a small kerosene lamp flickered away on a wooden table.

Kavya held the tiny white shirt up and gave it a gentle hug. Amar, who turned six the previous November, had just started his first grade at the local primary school.

Overwhelmed with emotion, Kavya looked up towards him and saw him making tiny paper boats for Arpita, who was two years his junior.

I can’t believe he has started school. She sighed.

It had been a difficult week for both Kavya and Amar. It was the first time that he had stayed away from home for a whole day and this caused immense distress, though she understood and appreciated the importance of education.

Ananya who was twenty one months old, sat on the floor, next to Kavya, holding tightly onto her milk bottle; stared at her, not understanding a thing or at least the reason behind the tears in Kavya’s eyes. She offered her milk bottle to Kavya.

No darling…that’s for you, Kavya smiled and gave Ananya a loving pat on the shoulder.

Surya, who was in the adjacent room, looked outside the window and held onto his chin as he attempted to study the storm.

The seven o’clock evening news gave severe flood warnings and advised people in the low-lying areas to move to higher grounds. Heavy winds and more rain were forecasted for the night.

The Prajapati house was way out of any rivers path. Build by Surya’s late father; the two-bedroom timber and iron house was shared with his elder brother, Gopal’s family.

Gopal was almost ten years older than Surya. Gopal got married in his late thirties and had four children; the eldest was his daughter who was the same age as Amar.

Both the families shared one common room to entertain visitors and for lounging. Since Gopal had a bigger family, he took the bigger bedroom. The two families had a ‘Tom and Jerry’ relationship for as long as Kavya could recall.

There were times when they were best of friends but more often; they were at loggerheads with each other.

Now with three young children, Kavya and Surya were finding it progressively hard to live in the confined space but due to financial constraints, Surya could not extend nor build a new house for his family.

Their kitchen was a few meters away from the house so Kavya kept a kerosene stove in the bedroom for rainy days and to warm milk for Ananya in the nighttime. On better days, she would use the outdoor kitchen and prepare meals using firewood.

Amar and Arpita began to shout and fight over their paper boats. Ananya looked frightened and crawled towards Kavya.

Hey! She shouted and stood up with Amar’s school shirt in one hand and holding Ananya with the other.

"You two better behave. You don’t want to make Taji angry, do you?"

She lifted Ananya up and was about to place her on the bed when she suddenly held onto her gravid abdomen and knelt on the floor.

Amar and Arpita stopped fighting and stared at their mother, who was lying coiled on the floor. Ananya stood next to her with the milk bottle still in her mouth looking at Kavya and then at Amar for comfort.

Kavya tried to bring herself up into a sitting position.

"Call Taji!" She gasped.

Amar jumped out of the bed as he threw the crumbled papers and ran into the adjacent room. Arpita began to cry and went to the far end of the bed. Ananya started crying as well amidst the confusion.

Surya appeared at the door and knew immediately what was happening.

He ordered Amar to take Arpita and Ananya in control as he grabbed a bunch of keys and dashed for the door. Kavya stood up as the pain eased momentarily and assured the children not to worry.

You all wanted to have a little baby brother to play with? She asked lovingly as she cradled her swollen abdomen. Well he is on the way now.

She reached over the bed and grabbed Arpita.

Amar, can you put this clean dress on Ananya please? she asked as she tidied Arpita’s hair and tied it into a bunny tail with a rubber band.

The sound of a running engine got louder as Kavya began to shut and secure the windows and the back door. Surya emerged into the living room and gave a big plastic sheet to Amar.

Here cover yourself and take Arpita and Ananya with you into the truck.

He assisted Kavya out of the house, locked the front door and marched quickly to the truck. The inside of the truck was all misty. He wiped the windscreen with a piece of cloth and made the children and Kavya comfortable inside.

He revved the engine for a couple of minutes. The noise and commotion grabbed the attention of Gopal’s family as several heads popped up at the window. The two families were not on good terms at that particular time so Surya did not deem it necessary to involve them in anyway.

He lifted his foot from the brakes and pressed on the accelerator. The truck jolted through the rain-washed feeder track into the main road.

Kavya held his hand and gestured to him to drive slowly as the shaking was causing her discomfort. After almost two kilometers, the truck turned right into another feeder road and came to a stop in front of a big wooden house.

Surya tooted the horns and a middle aged lady appeared at the front door. She tried to look through the glaring headlights of the truck and gestured to someone inside the room.

A young boy appeared behind her and ran up to the truck with an umbrella. Surya jumped out of the truck and walked towards his mother-in-law.

The labour pain has started and we need to rush to the hospital, he informed Gayatri.

Her face lit up instantly.

Can I leave the kids here while I rush her to the hospital? Surya asked.

Sure, Gayatri replied Give me a minute, I will accompany you two to the hospital as well.

Surya ran back to the truck and helped the three children out. Suraj, Kavya’s brother, held the umbrella for the children as they jumped off the truck and followed him into the house.

Within a few minutes, Gayatri appeared all dressed and ran to the truck. He reversed it, turned it around and sped back towards the main road.

The children waited as the taillights faded into the dark rainy night before they joined an excited congregation of three maternal aunts and two uncles.

Damn this rain, Gayatri scorned. It is going to ruin all the standing crops and so many livestock will die

Surya nodded in agreement, as he concentrated to keep the truck on the road. Fifteen minutes later, the truck slowed down and the headlights lit the big sign on the wall of the concrete building.

‘CATHOLIC MISSION HOSPITAL.’

The hospital was a user-pay health facility run privately by the Catholic Church. It boasted excellence in its birthing services for the small rural community.

Surya pulled the truck next to the entrance and ran inside. Gayatri and Kavya watched as he disappeared behind the two swinging doors and within minutes reappeared with a young nurse trailing behind him. The nurse assisted Kavya out of the truck and escorted her and Gayatri inside the antenatal unit while Surya went back and parked the truck.

Kavya gave the nurse a piece of paper and after studying it for a while; the nurse disappeared behind another set of doors.

Gayatri sat on a nearby bench next to Kavya and watched as ward visitors were being asked to leave since the visiting hours were coming to an end. Another nurse, an elderly Indian midwife dressed in a green scrub suit appeared with a manila folder. She smiled at Kavya and assured her that everything would go well since this would be her fourth delivery.

The first timers are the risky ones, she joked as she patted Kavya on the shoulder. Gayatri stood and watched as her eldest child was escorted behind the swinging doors.

A small label on top of the door read,

‘LABOUR WARD. STAFF ONLY’

Gayatri looked around only to see Surya arguing with an obese male warden.

No I am not visiting a patient, he argued. My wife is in labour and I am here to drop her off.

The warden looked at him suspiciously but eventually let him inside. Surya came and sat next to Gayatri. No one said a word. Surya restlessly tapped his fingers on his knees. The doors swung open and the midwife approached Surya and Gayatri as they stood up.

She will be fine, the midwife declared. The doctor says that the baby is not due till early morning so I would advise you two to go back home and return in the morning.

Everything will be ok Sister? Gayatri asked still unconvinced.

The nurse put her hand on Gayatri’s shoulder and reassured her. Gayatri glanced at the room in which the nurse took Kavya. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer before following Surya back to the truck.

The relentless rain still showed no sign of easing.

Kavya sat on the bed looking at the paintings of chubby babies hung on the wall.

Oh God Almighty! She prayed. Let this child be a boy so I will have two boys and two girls.

Another expectant mother on the next bed watched Kavya and began to say her own prayers as well.

Kavya looked at her and said, You look very young. Is this your first baby?

The young woman nodded and told Kavya that she was very frightened. Kavya walked up to her and held her hands.

This is my fourth child. The ordeal of the pain and the fear will vanish once you will hold your baby, she reassured the young expectant mother. You will do just fine.

They chatted for a while and then Kavya walked about the room as her contractions became more frequent and intense.

A nurse checked Kavya’s blood pressure, temperature and placed her palms on the abdomen while looking at her watch. She placed a stethoscope on the abdomen and with a sigh of relief jotted some notes into her chart.

You are doing very well, she comforted Kavya and moved on to the younger woman who was now crying in pain. Kavya tried to catch on some sleep between the contractions but the wailing and yelling from the young woman kept her awake.

The storm outside had worsened as had Kavya’s labour pains. It was as if the momentary gusts of wind and rain controlled her uterine contractions.

After the ten o’clock shift change, the incoming nurses served hot chocolates to everyone. Kavya had lost track of time and count on the number of check-ups the nurses had done until a nurse came and sat permanently next to her. She placed a hand on Kavya’s abdomen and cautiously drew two lines as if charting the direction of the storm in the ‘partogram’ (A composite graphical record of key data for both the mother and the foetus during labour, which is entered against time on a single sheet of paper.)

A line drawn in blue ink ran from top to bottom, while other in red, from the bottom to the top. After nearly four hours of charting, the two lines crossed each other. The midwife smiled, looked at her watch and wrote 0145hrs at the top of the page.

‘FIRST STAGE – SEVEN HOURS’. She wrote in bold letters.

You are ready my dear, she exclaimed and stood up.

Kavya was wheeled into the delivery room, which was only a couple of meters away. With watchful eyes of a young Irish doctor, a midwife helped deliver a new life into this world at 0206 hours, Monday the 8th of February, 1971. He weighed 3.12kg.

Second stage was noted to be twenty minutes.

The midwife cleaned the newborn with a warm wet towel. The baby screamed and yelled in retaliation. She then placed the neonate on Kavya’s chest while the doctors proceeded onto the third stage, which lasted eight minutes.

Kavya held onto the bundle of joy in both her arms and felt it wriggle. She could not see the face but the feeling of holding her baby brought a lump in her throat. She hugged the child closer to her and rubbed the head gently, feeling the soft tuft of wet hair. The baby stopped crying.

The nurse came, wrapped the newborn in warm sheets and took it away. She had barely taken two steps when she stopped, turned and showed the baby’s face to Kavya.

Congratulations, she said. It’s a boy!

Kavya closed her eyes and felt warm tears on her cheeks. "Thank you Lord Shiva," she murmured as she was wheeled out of the labour ward.

Two nurses helped her to the bed and once she was comfortably seated, the baby was placed in her arms. She gave him a good long hug and kissed his forehead. He squirmed and opened his eyes. His face began to twitch and he started wailing uncontrollably.

The nurse helped the baby attach to one of the breasts and supervised Kavya nurse him to his first meal. He suckled contently and within no time was sound asleep.

Kavya held him in her arms and studied him for a long time. Tiny drops of sweat had appeared on his nose tip. She wiped it off gently with her fingertips and called for the nurse. The nurse took the baby and placed him back into the nearby crib and then assisted her back into the bed. Kavya placed her hands over her empty abdomen and watched the little one as he slept.

She looked at the clock on the wall. She could barely see. It was semi dark and her eyes were heavy. She thought it was 0428hrs. She exhaled out loudly and settled back into the comfort of her bed and listened to the roaring wind and downpour.

The storm outside raged on.

GAYATRI – RESILIENT MANTRA

A s usual, Gayatri woke up at half past four in the morning, took a shower, said her morning prayers then placed a kettle of water on a wooden fire for tea.

She looked outside the skies and saw a halo of light over the mountains and knew that the day was going to be fine. The rain had stopped and everything looked green and smelled fresh.

She woke Maansi, her third daughter up then put on her gumboots and grabbed a bucket before taking a stroll slowly to the meadows, where the cows were tethered. After milking two cows, she handed the bucket full of fresh milk to Maansi for boiling.

By now the fine rays of the sun were appearing over the horizon and the birds started flying all over, chirping joyfully and welcoming the new day.

Maansi brought a cup of warm black tea to her mother. Gayatri held the cup between her palms and sat on a peedha’ (a homemade wooden stool) under a lemon tree next to the house, and gently sipped as she basked in the warmth of the rising sun.

Gayatri had her share of ups and downs in life as well. More sorrows, pain and tears than happiness; yet she showed courage and resiliently fought all the adversities that came her way and held her head high.

She got married at the tender age of fifteen and was brought from another rural settlement to live with her husband Birju and his extended family on his small sugar cane farm.

Gayatri’s mother-in-law was from India and she was a typical mother-in-law from hell. She used to give Gayatri a real hard time. Gayatri being the eldest daughter-in-law had to cater for Birju’s parents and his younger unmarried brother. She had learnt not to talk back to her mother-in-law and endured everything without complaining.

Gayatri came from a reputable and hard-working family. She was the only female child amongst seven brothers. She was much loved by her siblings but she was taught well not to appear weak or to moan about her in-laws to her brothers hence they remained unaware of the hardship that she went through. It was normal expectation of any married women during that time.

She would wake up at four in the morning and go to the river to take a bath and bail fresh drinking water. In those days, there was no piped water. Everyone had to go to the nearby river. She would put the kettle to boil, as Birju would go out to milk the cows and feed the poultry. Gayatri would make vegetable curry and ‘roti’ (Indian flat bread made from stone-ground wheat flour) and make parcels in time for Birju and his younger brother to take with them to the farm, where they would toil the land till mid-day before heading home for lunch. The roti parcel served as breakfast around eight in the morning.

Gayatri had seven children. Kavya was her first born. She had three more daughters, Devdasi, Maansi and Shantha; followed by a son, Suraj then another daughter who was named Anila and lastly, the youngest son Ravi.

After the demise of Birju’s parents, his younger brother moved out and built a house of his own. Birju’s family house was modest and the first in the village to be built with timber and roofing iron. All the others houses in the neighbourhood were made of battered bamboo with grass-thatched roofs.

Everything seemed perfect till tragedy fell upon Gayatri. Her youngest son Ravi was only seven years old and only Kavya and Devdasi had been married off, when Birju died in a tractor accident.

Many people believed that it was not an accident but artfully orchestrated event planned by someone. No one knew what exactly happened on that fateful morning. Some cane farmers came running from the field and told Gayatri that the tractor Birju was using to pull the cane truck out of a muddy field, had over-turned, crushing him under its massive weight.

Gayatri dropped all her chores and ran to the farm, only to find her beloved Birju’s lifeless body being pulled out from under the wrecked remains of the tractor.

He was rushed to the hospital but was pronounced dead on arrival. Post mortem revealed ruptured liver and spleen. His death was due to severe internal hemorrhage.

After the funeral, Birju’s brother tried to take advantage of heart broken Gayatri by fooling her into signing the farm deeds of Birju under his name. Surya, her eldest son-in-law (Kavya’s husband) had come to Gayatri’s rescue and arranged one of the top lawyers in town to ensure that everything owned by Birju would eventually go to Gayatri.

Gayatri’s brothers helped her with good advice; however, one of them turned out to be the black sheep and decided to move in on the farm under the pretense of a farmhand. After a few months of his charade as a concerned and helpful brother, he showed his true colours. He demanded that Gayatri transfer her farm to him. When she refused, his darker side took better control of him, which resulted in almost ten years of deceit, blackmailing and cruelty on Gayatri and her young family.

Gayatri had never been to school. She did not even know how to sign her name. She used her left thumbprint as signature on all legal documents.

With little help from Surya, Gayatri took control of her late husband’s estate all on her own. She stood steadfast against all the calamities from God and men with confidence and strength unmatched by anyone one could think of.

She never looked back for a moment nor wasted time on lamenting over Birju’s death. She never took pity on herself or on her young children. She knew that in order to survive, she had to stand tall and strong. She became the alpha female for her family.

Be it rain or shine, she was the first on the farm, toiling till late into darkness to make ends meet. It took several years before she could take few moments to sit and enjoy her cup of tea on glorious mornings.

As she sat under the lemon tree enjoying her cup of warm tea on that particular early February morning, she heard the roar of the truck as Surya pulled into the compound.

Back at the Mission Hospital, Kavya woke up at seven in the morning. She rolled over the side of her bed to check on her little boy. He was warmly snuggled in the crib next to her bed. She watched as his nostrils flared with each inhalation.

She sat on the bed, said her prayers and got off the side of the bed. She stroked his head gently and then walked to the bathroom to freshen up. As she walked back into the cubicle, she noticed Surya standing next to the window with his youngest son in his arms and talking childishly as he introduced the world to him. Kavya leaned against the door as she watched the glow of fatherly love being bestowed upon the newborn.

Surya turned and looked around as Kavya held him from the back.

"Thank you for making me a proud Taji once again." He whispered as he held Kavya in one hand and the baby in the other.

He is so content, peaceful and sound asleep despite the raging storm in which he was born. Shall we name him Aarav?

Aarav! Kavya repeated. Meaning sound. That is really wonderful name.

SURYA AND KAVYA

S urya and Kavya had been married for almost seven years before Aarav was born. It was a combination of love and arranged marriage. Both were from the same village. Surya came from a much bigger and richer family than Kav ya’s.

Surya had lived in their farmhouse built by his grandfather Jay, who had arrived in the remote island nation as a teenager from Calcutta, India. Jay who had lost his ties in India so chose to remain in his newfound country and built a mini empire of his own. Under the Agriculture and Land Tenant Act of his newfound homeland, he was able to acquire a huge piece of State land on long-term lease. His estate was almost a third of the rural community where he lived.

He invested in trucks, which were used to cart sugar cane to the Colonial Sugar Refinery mill from rural villages and he was the proud owner of the second tractor to be introduced into the country. He also owned a rice mill and a small grocery store. His wealth and contribution in the community gained him the respect and the title as the Prajapati of the village, which meant the leader of the people.

Jay had two sons and seeing that there was far too much land and property to be shared between the two of his sons; prior to his demise, he sold some of his land to suitable buyers and gifted the rest to his friends and loyal labourers who had worked for him.

He willed just enough land and the business to his two sons. His two sons Ram and Bali on-the-other hand had much bigger families of their own.

Surya’s father, Ram, who was the older of the two siblings, had nine children. Two sons; Rattan and Gopal and two daughters; Bhavna and Guddi who were all older than Surya, followed by a daughter,