The morning seemed like any other. As I woke up murmuring a few words as a humble prayer, the day’s schedule ran across my mind in a super fast mode, mostly the activities concerned with my students .Within a few minutes I rushed to my kitchen only to be welcomed by the tea-pot ;eagerly waiting to lift my spirits. Munching the Marie biscuits I sipped the aromatic tea and flipped through the pages of the morning daily.
My patient wait for my domestic maid had started, without her dexterity my activities would never end. Soon the bell rang and with a sprint I opened the door. I never questioned the cause of her late arrival; to err is human. Within a few minutes I realised that her usual pace was missing. As she folded the napkins I enquired if all was well? She looked at me and emitted a long deep audible breath. With concern I looked and she spoke, “Couldn’t rest last night. A girl next door underwent labour pain.” I questioned, “Could you get a vehicle at that odd hour?” “No, the delivery happened in the house with some experienced ladies to help.” In today’s modern age and being in a metro how could they not admit her into a nearby nursing home was the thought that crossed my mind. “Hope the mother with the new born is safe,” I asked. She replied,” The child is no more.”
I looked amazed at her. “Was it a full term baby”? She answered in the positive. By then I had seated myself thinking of the state of the bereaved mother .But soon the facts came out of the closet as my maid explained , “She was an unwed mother; so got rid of the child. A few minutes passed by and I was still trying to come to terms with the harsh consequence. In a feeble voice I wanted to know the means adopted for the task. She softly said that within minutes of the birth the new born was thrown into a big garbage bin and by dawn the huge garbage collecting vans completed the task of disposal.
Within the darkest hours of the night the fragile bones were broken, the breath throttled and the life cord was snapped by the nearest kin. It reconfirmed my belief that many of us are worse than the wild beast surviving in the garb of civilised men. A mother who nurtured the foetus for nine months witnessed the death of her little one. I questioned myself which is more esteemed – humanity or social norms?
Globally there is a rise in the cases of the unwed mothers. While such incidence is higher in the Western countries, developing countries are also catching up. In India such mothers are often teenagers with primary education or no education at all. Many of them have absolutely no knowledge of the birth process. Once pregnant they are traumatised by the societal pressure and desperately want to get rid of the growing foetus once it is delivered. The mothers realise that the scar is too difficult to erase. Hence are ready to forego the natural emotional bond visualising the challenges and darkness if the children are along. So either the tie is snapped for ever or given away to adoption centres or shelter-homes.
The mom whispers to herself – ‘I still hope it’s you and me in the end.’
