Her baby feet sprang up and down across
the veranda of a local hospital. Young Kuyili never knew why she was there. She
circled, leaped and fumbled up there. Her mother had gone into a room and did
not return for a few minutes. She was much piqued by the idea of solitude as
she found nothing entertaining there. She could not restrain the transient
idleness and the wait persuaded her to slowing creak the edge of the door. Her
tiny eyes sneaked in and wandered around the room and eventually the cast was
on the cadaverous person she had ever seen, hidden in a tattered saree. She was
the only soul to love Kuyili and she dwelt in the comfortable shadow of her
love. She had been her nest for seven years, and the chicken paid the hen with
furious love on her.
“We’ve already aborted the first baby,
then had a pre-term infant, and I have to check if I am pregnant again?” mom
consulted the doctor.
Kuyili moved back in consternation,
thoughts roughly bashed in the walls of her mind, with fervent iteration. She
was captivated by the idea of having a little brother, whom she can adore and
play with. She constructed loads of further happening memories, anticipating
good times with him. She exclaimed at the bulging of her mom’s belly and caressed
it. She celebrated her mother for having a baby inside of her. She cherished
her with strings of flowers bought from savings. The exhilaration on the climax
was escalating in her each day when mom was hospitalized a week ago.
Kuyili treaded home pondering over her
baby brother, when her step-grandmother hindered her by the way.
“Your mother has delivered a female
infant” she admitted and drove her to the hospital. Those words oozed out the
grimaced face in Kuyili, though she kept mum with her. All her fragile desires
were hammered into rubbles, and implanted frustration in her heart that later
jeopardized herself. She was petrified and transfixed at the conclusion that
her beloved brother never existed. She
had a frantic gait rushing into the hospital ward and paused quiet near her
mom’s bed. She never wanted to meet her so called sister. All the
frustration of not having a brother exploded into fierce rage on her sister.
She
crept along the rim of the crib like a worm and struck at the cradle in which
her sister was kept. She leaned up to the cradle to peep in the baby. It had a
deep, sound slumber by the gentle rock of the cradle. It was the moment when the
mismatch faces with infernal repine and tender innocence met. She loathed her
charm.
“You like your little sister, don’t you?” the mother
enquired.
“Very much” was Kuyili’s mild response with concealed
frustration, flames of fury interred and gulped in.
“See how beautifully she resembles your mother. You’ve
got a rival, Kuyili” the step-granny continued “for everything”.
“Shut the hell up, you’re not my granny at all” Kuyili
unfurled the fettered emotions hurling on her.
Right from the next day, Kuyili was
given the bowl of rice to eat it by herself, while the mother’s lap was the
delicate domicile of the new baby, solicitously fed in intervals. People gathered in their home for the infant,
she was cherished and celebrated. The corollary of accenting the infant was
that the dwindle of Kuyli’s authoritative tone. The dictatorship castle was
demolished at the inception of a little alienate creature. She could not
conceive her defeat to her. Negligence of her own mother piloted her to the jag
of solitude, fed up with envy rains. The spot light on the infant made Kuyili a
dark shadow.
“Why
do you stick with a blue face, Kuyili? Why is your hair tousled? Where are your
ribbons?” the class teacher enquired when she was raised up in class for
inattentiveness.
“My mother doesn’t want me anymore, for
she has a new baby and busy with her. I was sent out to neighbor to dress up.
All because of a new person in my home, ask her if you want anything!” shrieked
staggered Kuyili with tears raining over her cheeks, shuddering and gasping.
Though Kuyili had fanatic rage, the
remotest part of her heart was the provision of love on her sister. She was
supposed to take care of her sister, at least for her mother’s sake. She never
articulated her rage physically on her. She looked after the baby when mom went
to work. The baby was with her almost all the time. She squeezed the milk out
from the baby’s nibbles, fed her, dressed her up, clasped her on her chest and
walked gently patting her, bedded her, guarded her all the night.
Kuyili was somehow inspirited by the
presence of her, as days passed by. The little baby loved her sister. She
spread her love with silent charming chuckles. She was so enchanted with Kuyili
and waited for her to return from school each day. The giggle of the baby was
resonating in the small room whenever she touched the docile baby. The radiance
of the baby’s love breezed Kuyili. She grew inside her an acute sense of love
on the baby, which she never realized until the climax.
The baby was often taken to the hospital
for checkup. She was too feeble as a pre-mature infant. Her head was gradually
bulging and she shivered sometime. Father, mother and Kuyili sat around the
sleeping baby in a night. Kuyili was sweeping the air with hand fan for the
baby when the parents discussed the illness of the baby. Doctors concluded that
the baby was prone to jaundice. Kuyili did not make out exactly what they were talking,
but somehow figured that the baby was sick. She was melted, and gazed at the
baby. The knuckles and bodily crags glowed pinkish even in the pale yellow
brightness of the lantern, lips leaked out a dreamily smile of satiety.
The next afternoon, Kuyili was in
full-fledged consideration on the baby. Her pity on her illness revealed the
pent up mercy and love in her. She was really excited to go to home to see her
back, but with gallons of love this time. She purchased her a little orange
frock and played in her mind again and again how pretty she would look in that
frock. The evening sky seemed graciously beautiful for her that day. She
inculcated tons of mirth in her and bashed into the home to adore her little
sister.
She was puzzled to find no one at home.
Hours later mom entered and told her that the baby was hospitalized and would
be back in a few days. But her step-grandmother conveyed when she was drunk
“Your sister is thrown to the hospital! She will not come back; she will be
dead by now”. Kuyili went to her mother and wailed brutally. The love that had
been ignited in her fumed out in the form of tears. It was truly tough to realize that they had
spent just fifteen days with the baby.
The condition of the baby had been worse
and the doctor had terminated that the baby would die for sure and had
suggested them to give the baby to the hospital so that they would not face her
death in live, as it would affect the little girl at home.
Two days rolled on, the mother could not
stand the loss of her child and ran to the hospital to get her baby back. But
it was too late that they had rendered the baby for adoption to someone from
Chennai.
Mom called Kuyili through phone, twelve
years later, and hissed “You’ve got a sister, my child”; Kuyili had a
reminiscent smile. The mother was
actually now taking about the new born nanny (infant goat) at their home.
#Jaye
