A PAGE FROM A DIARY

As I sat down in the bus going home after spending four gruelling days in the Burns Department ICU at the Safdarjung Hospital, New Delhi, I felt a sense of relief. My little one had today moved into the General Ward and the doctors attending said that in a couple of days the patient would be discharged.  My daughter, my first born, was thirty years old but had a mind of no more than that of a ten year old -so she was always  the ‘little one’ to me. My baby loved making tea at home and that fateful day she was making it for herself and her father, who was at home. As she began pouring the tea into the cups, she suffered a bout of fits, something she used to have since she was an infant. The tea  poured all over her as she fell on the floor wriggling with her eyes wide open, unknowing of any heat or pain. With the saucepan making a loud noise, the father rushed to the kitchen and saw it all. He called for help from the neighbours, rang me up at my office, which was not far from home, and rushed the girl to the special Burn ICU at the hospital.

My ‘little one’after coming to senses would not let anyone touch her except me. The doctors made an exception in the case and allowed my son to also stay in the ward to help me and the doctors in treating the patient who would get violent at times. I took care of her during the day and at night when I would try and get some sleep, my son would stay awake keeping watch, calling the nurses, giving his sister water, getting medicines which the doctors would prescribe from time to time. The Head Matron had specifically told the boy, “Don’t eye the nurses in the ward or else you will be out of the ward!” On the third night suddenly there was a commotion….nurses came rushing asking all extra people in the ward to leave as an inspection team was coming. My son told me not to worry and also requested the nurses to call for him as he would be just outside the gates of the hospital in case they needed any medicine or help. That night, I stayed alone and awake in the ward while my son joined a sea of people at the major crossing outside the Hospital chatting with people, taking a few cups of tea intermittently.

Around 11 am next day, my younger daughter and husband came to the hospital to relieve us. Both of us looked terribly tired and exhausted. No sooner had we reached home than we took a good bath and went off to sleep because we had to go back again to the hospital in the evening. I couldn’t sleep much so woke up early and left for the hospital, leaving my son to sleep longer. As soon as I reached the ward, I saw a lot of doctors and nurses around my ‘little one’s’ bed. I screamed as I ran as much as I could and quickly wrapped my arms around my baby.  I held her tight as I could see her pain on her face but also a faded smile as she saw me coming. She was trying to say, “My Ma is here. Now everything will be all right for me.” And then……my girl slumped went completely still. The doctors checked her one last time and left us standing there alone. She had been very uneasy all afternoon and had become dehydrated. The doctor had slowly given up hope and that was when I came back. A question that I keep asking myself is whether my little one was just waiting to get a glimpse of me before bidding goodbye?

Since this was a case of unnatural death, the body of my ‘little one’ was kept in the morgue for the police formalities and postmortem. I repeatedly told them, “She has never slept alone. All these thirty years she has been by my side. She is afraid of the darkness and needs to often hold my hand in her sleep.” My cries fell on deaf ears. They wouldn’t listen. We went back home. By then the neighbours had come to know of the news and a lot of them crowded my small government house. By the time they left it was quite late and my husband, son and daughter went off to sleep. I stayed awake looking out of the window. It was a full moon night and the sky was illuminated. 

My ‘little one’ was born very beautiful. She was so soft and round and was the darling of all my friends. One night, as she lay beside me, she fell from the bed. We did not give the incident much importance but soon found out that while her body was growing at a natural pace, her brain was not. We tried sending her to a normal school but realised she was not able to cope up with the other kids. There were not too many schools for special children in our times so we kept sending her till class 5 even though her younger sister had gone past her and was studying in the 7^th standard. My ‘little one’ stayed back at home after that but we needed someone to look after her during the day when I would go to work. So we decided to keep a young couple who did not have kids and the wife was not working. My house was small and we had to give away one of the two bed rooms. My family of five were left with one bedroom and one living room and a common bathroom that was shared with the other couple.

To me all this did not matter. All that was important was that my girl was being taken care of in my absence. But once I was back home, I would do everything for her including feed her with my own hands even when she was twenty…she loved it and waited for it everyday. My husband was a quiet man and just went to work and stayed at home but I was the social type, never to miss a get together, a marriage or a birthday party. Wherever I went, my ‘little one’ went with me. If there was a party at the office, I would pack the goodies and bring it home to share with all my children but of course the biggest and the best piece was reserved for her. I made sure I took her to Calcutta every year during the summer vacations. On all these trips and outings I had to manage her alone for my husband never accompanied us. We tried all allopathic medicines including shock therapy and I even got a fakir home to do jhaadphoonk but the damage to the brain was irreversible.

How many nights I would stay awake for her whenever she fell ill. Her bouts of fits became more frequent and many times she would fall over sharp and tough objects thereby hurting herself. Only I could nurse her. I started taking sleeping pills on days she was all right as I just couldn’t sleep normally.

After today, may be, I will sleep as my baby sleeps alone tonight in that freezing morgue with nothing to cover her, just a white sheet of cloth. Tomorrow they will take her to the Yamuna Ghat and only memories will remain. I will dress her up well. She always liked red silk saris and lots of glass bangles. She always put a bindi on her forehead and so it will be tomorrow as well. I remembered her school going, her tiffs with her siblings and her most prized possession was the little piggy bank where she would put the coins her father gave her. Every Durga Puja the gullak would be opened and I would buy her a sari of her choice. I went across to the cupboard where her gullak was kept, lifted it and shook it slowly….the noise of the small coins inside sounded loud and broke the quietness of the night.

Perhaps what has happened has happened for good. Who would have looked after her when I would not be around? Couldn’t expect my son and daughter to do all this? Not fair for they have a normal lives to lead with their families and shouldn’t be chained to her. I am sure she too felt bad about not being normal and must have suffered a pain that she never could express of being possibly inferior to her brother and sister and to the other people she knew. May be the Lord has been kind to relieve her of her pain and misery. May be He may have taken pity on me- No, no way. Why pity me? I never asked for it. No matter what she was to others, to me she was always My Little One. Tomorrow her final journey commences and if there is any God up there, He will take care of her till I meet her again. Instinctively I put my hand out of the window with my index finger pointing towards the sky….Take care, My Little One. Love Ma.

SS