The Tusker of Xonarigaon

That night the elephants came exactly at 2.00 am.

The little devils, in guise of my daughters, had finally fallen into the clutches of deep slumber at around 12.00 midnight after an hour of story-telling and lullabies. The sweetness of silence, that ensued, swathed and comforted me. Though tired, sleep eluded me; it always came late to me here at Xonarigaon. I wanted to soak in as much of the serenity as I could, to take back with me to the never-ending, buzzing humdrum of Guwahati.
 
I picked up a book, more out of habit than an intention to read and went out to the balcony.
The swing with its plush red cushions beckoned me and I curled up within its luxuriousness and opened the book, the light from the stained glass lamps hanging on the eaves of the balcony and the rays from the full moon aiding me and also setting up a perfect ambience to read a Wilbur Smith novel. It was one I loved and must have read an umpteenth time, but i never tired of it. Soon I was absorbed in the tale of the wilderness of Africa, the lions, the elephant hunts, sizzling sex and horrific tortures. I must have been reading for around an hour, when, suddenly a sound, small but sharp and seeming to come from a distance, brought me back to my balcony. Earlier in the day, the locals were discussing with my hubby, about a herd of elephants foraging about in the paddy fields of Xonarigaon. Sensitized by these warnings, combined with Smith's description of the elephant hunt I was so engrossed in at that moment, I became alert. Leaving the comfort of the soft cushions, I got up and leaned against the rails of the balcony. I strained my ears for more sounds and looked around apprehensively for a sight of the beasts so lovingly written about by Smith. But only the silence, abuzz with the night sound of crickets and fireflies,  an occasional hoot of the owl and bark of a pariah dog greeted me. 

The clear night sky was lit up by hundreds of bright twinkling stars, a sight rarely seen in the smog covered city skies. The lawns and flowerbeds outside was alight like the heavens above with the fireflies. Mesmerised by the beauty of the night, I forgot about the cushions and the book. I leaned against the rails and breathed in the pungent smell of the bamboos  drifting in with the slight breeze from the bamboo grove across the road, opposite our balcony. I felt a deep calm flow down my veins, relaxing the taut muscles and strained brain. I closed my eyes and let the moonlight and the cool breeze and the night sounds envelop me within their soothing embrace. A few blissful minutes later, I heard the door behind me open and then shut with a soft click. Hubby had satisfied his curiosity about the events of the day across the globe.I did not look back. On any given day, he would have left me to my musings and gone to bed, bidding me goodnight, and would have fallen asleep immediately. But the magical nights of Xonarigaon had rekindled some of the romance of our early married life. A sigh escaped involuntarily as he came and stood beside me and I shivered with long forgotten pleasure as his long arms encircled my ample waist. I leaned against him, my head finding its perfect position on his wide chest and i could hear his steady heart beat. It had been a long time since we basked in each others company. We were busy and distanced by our own worlds and duties, but always drawing comfort in knowing that we were still close to each other in our thoughts. 

The gentle breeze caressed us as we stood there for what seemed like an eternity, still and silent, looking out into the dark woods opposite our home, not needing to say a word, letting the sounds of the night do all the talking. 

Suddenly, a short, sharp burst of sound split apart the silence of the night and shook us out of our complacent mood. It was the same sound which had brought me out to the balcony rails a little while ago.

"Elephants nearby", hubby whispered. He did not seem as intrigued as me about the sound. Being born and growing up in these wondrous lands, it seemed normal for him. He understood the voices of the nights well.

"How do you know? And what was that sound"? I asked excitedly. Being a city girl I took the sound to be that of a fire-cracker at some wedding. 

"That's the sound of a shot from a rifle. A forest guard fires these to keep away the elephants from the inhabited areas and also to warn us about their presence", hubby explained patiently. 

As we looked on, scrutinizing our surroundings, the bamboo grove opposite us started swaying. I was so excited I could hardly restrain my anticipation. I felt hubby squeeze me gently, as if reassuringly, and remove his arms from around me. Disappointed, I looked up at him in askance and saw him bow down his head reverentially and fold his hand in Namaskar. We had seen an elephant many a time; as slaves of the humans in the city; playing tricks in circuses during our childhood and even the wild ones while on trips to Kaziranga. As for hubby, he had grown up in this place, which was close to  Kaziranga, and had told me many a tale of the trips these pachyderms made to the villages in search of food. So it amazed me to see an expression of utmost reverence and humbleness etched upon his proud face which i was witnessing for the first time in our 20 years of married life. I turned towards the bamboo grove and a split second later I had my first glimpse of this mighty animal.  

I saw the tusks first as the light from the full moon fell and glinted off it making it shine like an effervescent pearl. They were thick, almost the size of my little one's wrist and so long that they almost touched the earth below it. The bearer of such tusks must definitely be an octogenarian and the leader of the herd. The tusks speared out from the side of the grove bearing a huge grey blurry mass upon it which, an instant later materialized into its magnificent, majestic form.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      Though Wilbur Smith had already familiarized me with the feeling generated by the sight of this mighty creature of the wild yet I was left stunned by the force of feeling that engulfed me on seeing this beautiful beast so close to me. He commandeered reverence  to  from us mere humans and I too felt myself bowing down in utmost humility to his magnificence. Slowly, but with a grace that would put the best supermodel to shame, the old bull emerged from out of the woods and crossed the road towards our side. Five more, slightly smaller, but definitely no less magnificent, ambled out of the woods and followed him as he traversed the length of our boundary wall. My heart seemed to have stopped beating for an instant as the bull and his entourage stopped at our gate and peered inside it. But then they continued ambling towards the west and stepping on to a small lane on the left leading towards the paddy fields behind our homestead disappeared into the early morning mist.

The whole sighting must have taken only a couple of minutes, for though the herd moved graciously and steadily, they were by no means slow and during this entire period I had held my breath which now came out in a huge sigh. I heard hubby too sigh heavily beside me and we looked at each other and smiled happily. It seemed the magical moment was created solely for our pleasure, a moment which we will cherish together forever, a moment which will bind us together for the rest of our lives. 

  



 

The Day I was Reborn- As a Mother

1.15 pm. 28 April 2011. The events of the day is etched on my mind like the stories etched on stone by the cave dwellers and is as fresh as if it happened yesterday. I am super excited as well as pretty nervous. The 15 year long wait is finally over. I am pregnant at last. One more month to go and I'll be able to hold a little baby in my arms, cuddle it, love it.
I lay down on my left side in my bed with a book and stroked my belly gently. Today I was reading 'The Fountainhead' by Ann Ryand. But I was unable to concentrate. These days i was reading more for the baby growing inside me than for myself. After reading for 15 minutes, the first pangs of unease started to stab my heart. I could not feel the kicks my baby usually throws to make its presence felt. I placed my palm on my bulging belly and tried to feel my baby. Nothing!
I tried talking to it. 'Hey baby! Are you still asleep today? Don't you like this book? Please baby, wake up! Put my fears to rest!'
Still no response. This phenomenon had happened earlier also but the baby would start kicking as I talked to it. But today it was not happening. The alarm bells started ringing. I was on the verge of tears. With shaking hands I called my doctor. He could hear the panic in my voice. He tried to calm me but I was unable to listen to any voice of reason. I, forcefully pried myself from the verge of hysteria and listened to the doctor. He asked me to come over to the hospital immediately. It was almost 2.00pm and my husband was away at work. I called him up and related my situation. I could sense his concern. He immediately rushed back home and we went to the hospital. I was crying copiously and he drove on silently, immersed in his own fears for the life of our much awaited unborn one.
At the hospital, thankfully, we were not made to wait and was immediately taken to the doctor 's chambers. As he did my USG I could see that everthing was not alright. I called out to Sai Baba. I was sure he was nearby and would not let anything happen to the gift he had given us. A calmness spread over me and I knew my baby was alright. The next moment the doctor confirmed my belief. My baby was alright. Its heart was beating as strong as ever. But the problem was that, my baby had detached itself from my placenta for which it was not getting the required nutrition. This had made it weak and unable to move. This called for an emergency cesarean operation and we had no option but to go for it immediately.
A host of feelings engulfed me. I was ecstatic that I 'll be able to see and hold my baby so soon. I was frightened that I might die on the operating table. But most of all I was frightened for my baby. One and half month premature! Would it be capable of coping in this harsh world?
However the doctor assured me that they could take better care for the baby outside the womb, than inside.
So, all my plans for my newborn laid to waste, I was embarking on my new journey without any preparation ....the journey to motherhood. Husband gave me a tight hug before leaving me in the capable hands of my doctor. At the door to the OT, I turned to give my hubby a last look. I saw concern etched on his face. I smiled to reassure him that we both (his wife and still unborn baby) would be fine and waved goodbye. I did not realise it at that time, but I was looking at him as my hubby for the last time. A few hours from now, he'll always be my baby's father, more than my husband.
Inside, I was prepared for the big occasion. As I lay on the operating table, my thoughts were only on Sai. I kept chanting his prayer. It calmed me and I was no more afraid. The anesthesiologist arrived and gave me a pep talk on what he was going to do and how the anesthesia worked. I showed off a bit by talking knowledgeably about the process and the doctor was suitably impressed. A couple of minutes later my doctor and his assistant arrived. Keeping up a lively chat with me and with each other they started their job. The clock on the wall in front showed that it was now 5.45 pm. We kept chatting all the while the doctors were going through the layers and layers of fat to reach the final destination- my uterus where my baby lay so peacefully. 47 minutes later, 6.32 pm, the doctor triumphantly congratulated me on attaining motherhood.
He brought a tiny being, all covered in the red muck, towards me and I saw the small round head covered in curly black hair first. The teeny weeny red face with eyes shut tight against the harshness of the world it entered and a pert, pointed, screwed up but perfect nose tugged at my heartstrings and completely won me over. I wanted to snatch it from the doctor, hold it and clutch it to my bosom. But that was not to be for the moment. The baby needed to be taken to the NICU to be taken proper care of. It was whisked off by an efficient nurse to be cleaned and debuted to her father who was waiting anxiously outside.
It had not struck me till that moment to ask after the baby's gender......probably because I was not too concerned about it. It mattered only for the name by which it would be known to the world and i had already decided on two names. When my doctor asked me whether I wanted a male or female, I said I just wanted a healthy baby. This made the doctor smile and he announced I had borne an angel. My joy knew no bounds. All those pretty frocks and cute hair bands, sandals and cute barbie dolls danced in front of my eyes. I thanked the doctors after which they began the task of stitching me up. That took another half an hour after which my doctor adviced me to try to sleep and i was taken to the observation room where I had to stay for an hour after which i was to be taken to my cabin to be reunited with the father of my baby.
But sheer exhaustion overwhelmed me and the effects of anesthesia kicked in and i was fast asleep and remembered no more.
Yesterday, this angel, who entered my life much before her alloted time and brought so much brightness and joy to my life, completed 5 years and is continuing to enrich our lives with so much of love and laughter which I never thought was ever possible.

She Rose like the Phoenix

'Sometimes the strongest women are those who love beyond all faults, cry behind closed doors and fights battles that nobody knows about.'
This is a story about one such strong woman. Gayatri (Mani) Das. On her birthday, my best wishes to her and to her kindered spirit. May she live long and inspire other less stronger lives.
As a teen, she put up a poster in her room which said WHY STUDY
Father tore it up, screaming, what will you do then, you slut, you whore.
He surreptitiously followed her to college. She knew it and also knew she would be beaten up once she reached home. Defiantly she talked to the boys of her class and went out with them. She acted carefree and her batchmates thought she was too free.
She managed to put up with the verbal and physical abuse till she passed her 12th standard.
Then she rebelled.
She ran away from home. Then saw reason and went back home to endure all humiliations till she graduated.
Instead of striving to become a doctor, as her father wished, she graduated with honours in English.
Next, to get away from her father's abuses, she latched on to the first guy she met and thought she fell in love with.
But she realised too late that he was a loser. A drunk and an adulterer. She escaped her father's hell just to be sucked into another. Being pregnant she thought she could not leave him. So she again faced all the agonies her husband inflicted on her stoically and bid her time, for she was confident she would not face this till eternity. He beat her black and blue, she remained silent; he burnt black holes on her body with burning cigarettes, she put on concealers to hide the scars from the world.
He carried on extra marital affairs in front of her eyes. He even brought his girlfriends home. She put on a red lipped smile for her friends and bore on.
When she could take no more, she rebelled.
First, she completed her masters.
Then she divorced him.
Luck seemed to favour her for once. Her husband had obtained a wine shop in her name. As she did not get anything from him as alimony she fought tooth and nails to retain the ownership of the wine shop and for the custody of her 10 year old son. She won. She brought a small one room apartment for her and her son and sent him off to a boarding school in the Doars. Then she concentrated on the business.
Being a woman, she had to struggle a lot to run the business.
Her 'friends' began avoiding her and gossiped behind her back.
'She's too bold! How can a woman run such a disreputable business! She must be characterless, so her husband left her!' And so on.
The men who came to to the shop, thought her to to be easy and free. She thwarted their unwanted attention firmly and sweetly so that she did not lose clients and the men came ro admire her grit.
She carried on. She lived on.
Her business thrived.
Then, once more, romance peeked into her life, like the rays of the sun from behind a dark cloud, and she thought 'This time it's real and forever.'
She met him in her wine shop. He did not flirt with her like her regular customer and she was drawn to him by his sad eyes. They seemed to tell a similar story of physical abuse and mental torture. Soon they became friends and she learnt from him that he was married and was physically abused by his jealous and powerful wife. It seemed only natural that they fall in love.
However, life would not let her have any chance at happiness so easily.
He was not granted a divorce.
Not willing to let fate interfere in her life, she decided to go away with him and start life afresh elsewhere, unaware that life was not finished dealing with her.
She sold her business and both shifted to Delhi. She found a job for herself, while the guy whiled away his time on the sofa watching TV. He would not even do any household chores and she would have to cope with both the job and the house work.
This ultimately got to her. But she waited patiently. She applied for a work visa in Hongkong and got it. She left the looser guy and shifted to Hongkong where she works as a teacher in an elemantary school. Her son is doing great in his academics and he's now enrolled in one of the most prestigious institue in the USA.
She's free at last. She roams around the world, experiences the most thrilling adventures and is living the high life, living life according to her own terms.
She is a hero. Except for the son, all the men in her life were losers. They tried to bind her down and break her indomitable spirit. Her friends derided her and thought her promiscuos and too bold. But she did not let them break her. She lived and is living life king size.
'Like the Phoenix, she rose from the ashes of despair and soared over them'.
A VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Gayatri Das.....may you reach the pinnacle and be a beacon for other kindered souls.
Disclaimer- This is the account of a real woman and I haven't been able to depict the emotions as strongly as she might have gone through. I hope she forgives me this inadequacy.