Page 120 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

“What the hell?” I glared at him for startling me. Somehow, his fear assuaged my furore. “Why are you crying,
kid?”
He trembled. His dirt-smudged face said he hadn’t washed for days. Often, he glanced back at the door he came
out from. The other moment, he even tried to cross the road. He looked right and left and hunched. But something
deterred him. He almost tripped on his leg.
“Oops-a-daisy, watch out, kid!”
“My mom is beating me,” he cried, putting his finger in his mouth. “Boohoo.”
“Why?”
“Boohoo!”
“Stop crying.” I rifled through my pant pockets for some change, but only to find just adequate for a taxi. A
young woman rushed out and grasped the boy’s frail arm and shook him hard.
“Aunty, please don’t beat him.”
But she slapped him hard across his left cheek. “Where is the money? Tell me, where is it?”
Poor kid jerked in agony and dropped to his knees before her. “I lost it, Mom. Boohoo! I am sorry.”
I looked up and said, “Lord, have mercy on this poor chap.” I dragged the boy behind me. “Aunty, how could
you lay your hands on your son?”
She glared at the boy. “Come out, you rogue.” Hefting the boy from my back, she spanked him hard on the back.
“Take this!”
My heart ached, seeing the innocent boy flinch in fright.
“He is just a boy, Aunty. You can’t beat your child. You know what’s like for a child to—”
“Leave us alone. I have the right to do anything with him.”
“But he is just a—”
She dragged the boy away and slammed the door behind her. “You spoiled brat. Take this!”
Spank! Spank!
With each distancing step, the boy’s weeping faded away too. It haunted me all the way home. “That was gross.
Can’t believe I saw a stone-hearted mother abuse her child today.”
Back in the school, I drowned in tears, remembering my baby. And every time I remembered him, I sneaked into
the toilet and sobbed, leaning against the wall. I sobbed until my brain throbbed.
Commuting to school from the ward to school became a part of my daily schedule. Evenings, I sat on the bench
behind the ward, wondering what fate had stored for my baby. As the cool evening breeze caressed my face, I
looked up and said, “Lord, what did my son do?” As the red sun creased the distant horizon, I rubbed my arms in
comfort.
A group of people rushing a baby girl into the pediatric ward woke me. I sat up and watched them shuffle
through the verandah and to the triage.
“Doctor!” screamed the young mother. “Emergency, please!”
The nurse laid the baby on the table and took the temperature. “What happened?”
“Please do something. Call a doctor.”
“Jaundice,” said the old man, puffing beside the baby’s mother. “Hepatitis-B.”
The nurse scurried into our cabin and said, “You have to shift your baby to the ward. That baby needs this bed.”
“Sure,” I said.
“Thanks for your cooperation. Please hurry.”
We shifted our baby to the general ward. I tiptoed and peeped through the glass. Her mother sobbed, holding
her little hands. It ripped my heart. I stalked to the canopy and lay on the floor, chanting prayers for the poor baby.
The ward was bizarrely silent that night.
“How strange?” I muttered.
Sudden cries from the cabin woke me. I sat up and pricked my ears. The baby’s mother flung out and curled up
on the cement. She wept as much as she could.
“Stop crying,” said an old man, whom I assumed was her father.
“Oh, my poor baby!” She squirmed on the cement. “Dad, get my baby back!”
The old man pulled her up and cuddled. “I am sorry, dear. The baby just passed away.”
I looked up at the starry night and whispered, “Life is ephemeral.”
Relatives consoled her, but she wouldn’t stop crying. It was a heartbreaking moment. They packed the lifeless
body in a carton box and carried her away like nothing. She came to the ward two hours back and now she left the
ward without her soul.
As they disappeared behind the pitched darkness, I held my chest and said, “May the baby’s soul rest in peace.”

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