Page 122 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

I got up and waved my hand to him. “Hold on, Dr. John would remove it.”
I didn’t trust his novice hands, but he had removed the tube. It was more than a meter long. Dr. John had told us
it should remain intact until the baby’s stoma functions.
“Oh, no!” I said, holding my chest. “Would the waste pass through the stoma?”
“I hope so.”
“What? What if it doesn’t pass through the stoma?”
“I don’t know. He won’t make it.”
“What?” I glared at him. “You shouldn’t have removed it.”
“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.”
“I am overwhelmingly wordless,” I said. “Thanks a million, doctor.” I wished to say more, but words choked me.
He shoved his hands in his jeans pocket and slogged towards the door. “Thank you, too, for taking great care of
your baby. Bring him to my chamber after one week.”
I bowed and grinned. “Sure, doctor.”

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