Page 124 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

15 THE REFERRAL TO THE AMRI HOSPITAL

Living in a rented apartment with a meager salary was difficult. And I had five mouths to feed, but the baby’s health
worried me more. From time to time, we nursed his stoma so that it didn’t get infections. We emptied colostomy
bags on time and fed him the best food the nutritionist had instructed. Everything seemed to go fine, but for how
long?
“Oh, not again!” said Choki, one evening. “It’s not even a month he was discharged from the hospital.”
“Oh, no!” I said. “With him, diarrhea lasts for days, and sometimes a week”
Choki held her chest and said, “What an awful life! Our fate is worse than death!”
“We must show him to Dr. John.”
“But it’s already evening.” Her voice quavered and there was little energy in it. “Why not tomorrow?”
“Don’t worry, he’d be in the ward,” I said, picking up the baby’s file.
As expected, Dr. John was in the pediatric ward. He prescribed medicines and ORS. “You should submit the
documents. It’s time you took your baby.”
“We’re not ready yet.”
“Why? What happened?”
“Um, we don’t have money.”
He looked at me with sad eyes. “Oh, really? Um, hope you can take him after two months?”
“I appreciate your consideration, doc. Thank you.”
Back home, I checked the calendar and said, “Where would we get the money from?”
“Maybe we should ask our relatives,” said Choki. “They will lend us.”
“People are selfish on money matters,” I said, shaking my head. “Unless you are rich yourself or great, nobody
would lend you anything, not even siblings. Moreover, I don’t have anyone.”
“You’re right,” she said, sighing. “But don’t you think we should try?”
“I don’t know,” I sighed. “Oh, yes! I have a book.”
“So?”
“So… I will sell it to the printing press.”
“Who would buy it?” There was a little charm on her face. “Bhutanese are not too keen on books.”
“I can at least try, can’t I?”
“Which printing press?”
“Um, Galing Printing Press,” I said. “It’s behind the pediatric ward.”
“Are you sure you want to try it selling?”
“There is no harm trying.”
The next day, I went to Galing Printing Press with the handwritten manuscript.
“Yes?” said a bulbous man on a rotating chair. “Come in, please.”
“Proprietor?” I said.
He nodded.
“I have a story for sale. You would want to see it.”
“What kind of story?”
“It’s a wonderful story, sir. About an orphan boy.”
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