Page 152 - FATE & DESTINY
P. 152

FATE & DESTINY

               “Doctor John told me to remove it.” He flung the tube into the dustbin and noted on the record sheet.
            “Take care of your baby.”
               I couldn’t help myself. Jaw dropped, I watched him slog out. “I hope the baby can poo.”
               Choki crossed her finger. “Let’s pray he poos.”
               The baby flinched and groaned harder. I detached the IV line from his hand and rocked him around the
            cabin.
               “What’s happening?” asked Choki.
               Tears blurred my eyes. “I think he is leaving us, Ama. He is breathing his last.”
               “What? That can’t be possible.”
               “Come, Ama.” I carried the baby to the nurse room. “Nurse, can I take him to the canopy?”
               Mrs. Tara nodded.
               I rocked him around the canopy and sniffled, remembering the blissful moments I had with him. He
            would smooch my cheeks and bury his head in my chest, and I would cuddle him in return. I would tickle
            his nose and he would nibble my finger. Every second of his moment with us was precious. Now, seeing
            him on the brink of death just broke my heart. I couldn’t believe him breathing his last in my arms. “God,
            don’t snatch my baby, please! Let him live with us for another day, please.”
               The menacing dark clouds enshrouded the sky. People watched us in sheer sympathy as the fate
            truncated the baby’s life every second. Choki fell on her knees and wept. Tears pricked my eyes as I
            watched him battle for his life. He flinched as his tummy rumbled.
               “God, have mercy, please,” I mumbled. “Oh, dear! How can we live without you? Please don’t leave
            us.”
               Choki embraced us and sobbed.
               “Ama, I think he is leaving us. Now let him breathe his last.” As I rocked him, I heard another rumble.
            “It’s just a rumbling.”
               Choki paused sobbing and tucked up the baby’s shirt. Goodness me!”
               My hair bristled. “What? What’s the matter?”
               “Stool is coming out from the opening.”
               “What?” I leaned and looked at the stoma. “Thank you, God.” I carried him to the nurse room,
            flashing a million-dollar smile. “Nurse, look at this. He poos through this stoma.”
               A gigantic grin spread across Mrs. Tara’s face. “Lie him on the bed. I will fix the colostomy bag.”
               The baby stopped groaning and went to sleep. Even the rumbling stopped. I sat on the stool and
            fiddled the baby’s frail fingers.
               Phew, the last forty-eight days in the ward had been a limbo not only to us but also to Dr. John and his
            team. In the ward, nurses shared our sorrows as much as we did, especially Mrs. Tara who wept buckets
            with us. Feeling blessed, I tried not to cry.
               Dr. John arrived three days later. He wore a wide grin. “How is Rinchen?”
               I returned the grin. “I think he is improving, doctor.”
               “Wow,” he said, holding the baby’s hand, “he has improved a lot.”
               “Thank you, doctor. You saved him.”
               “Ha… ha… ha…” He patted my shoulder. “We all did.” He grinned at Choki. “You’re great parents.
            Let’s take good care of him. He has a long way to go.”
               I bowed to him. “Sure, doctor.”
               “Now you can feed him with soft food.”
               I heaved a great sigh of relief. “Oh, thank you, doctor.”
               A lady dietician briefed us about the baby’s diet. With each passing day, the baby improved.
               One week later, Dr. John said, “You can take the baby home tomorrow. Once he puts on some
            weight—about ten kilograms—you can take him to Kolkata.”
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