OS: Daddy Crucified
7:30 pm
I was most definitely ecstatic. But my mirth did not have an overwhelming edge to it; I already knew it was coming. Hence, that morning when my wife, Nupur wheeled out of the rest room, she approached me to declare what I'd already figured out. She wasn't unsure, she wasn't apprehensive, just the tiresome Wednesday morning had made her jittery when she told me she was pregnant.
She warmed the cockles of my heart. I was one content man then and how! I instantly declared my platform and she agreed to my every command, which were all of three, anyway. She wasn't working post the fourth month, she couldn't drink and she, was going to let me cook.
Just as I said, I wasn't overwhelmed with joy. I am a pragmatic man and I had all of this planned. I am so high on planning, you could say – the day she and I hooked up in college, I must have figured out at the back of my mind, which school our children will attend. When she had managed to get sixteen of her bones broken during our MBA, the boyfriend-take-my-care dose was literally surplus, so now I even knew I'd love to look after her and be responsible, like I always have been. And smug, let's be true over here now!
7:45 pm
Alright, so it was nothing surreal, nothing too bright – I knew the procedure, like I knew what I had to do for the next three-fourths of my year. But it did not quite strike me, now I was going to have a family. And until today, nothing coaxed me to come to think of that either.
This is not one of my favorite places, you know? Broken people on stretchers, people with asymmetrical features carrying them and uh, some have gotten horrific faces, the doctors – but what's the scariest is the fact that the same petrifying people are going to help my wife deliver my baby. What a view, even the thought's gotten me shrugging.
My kid is not coming out of his mother's womb to scary-looking hospital guys, Dr. Dang disguised as the obstetrician and a tired and scared father. Nupur's condition's gonna be reasonable but the rest is bothersome, believe me.
Now that I sit over here, the air-conditioners are no help – I am sweating like I just finished running for a marathon. No wonder, I did not come to think of this exercise all these months, and now I am like a melting inedible ice-cream, worse than the classics for which my wife craved in the last two months of her pregnancy.
This is torturing. When I woke up this morning, the I'm-supreme man that I am - I did my regular chores and headed to office. If I had known Nupur would explode with her labor pain just as I was in the middle of a traffic jam, I would have let the bloody cook be and slept off. I wasn't reaching office on time, anyway.
When you are on the verge of getting to see your biological creation, it's not your long-unsatisfied libido that bothers you, or the number of times you had to sleep with the smell of puke in your bedroom – the sight of blood stains on your wife's dull patient-uniform, her hysterically painful screams and the ghostly faces of the doctors will include your list of things-most-likely-to-witness.
I am impaled, I dare say my organs are going to stop functioning or something, my exam of class twelve and even my MBA was such a cakewalk, fathering something that is still unborn that you await is so much more difficult. Uh, I am committing one felony one after the other – not one ant since forever has managed itself uncrushed on the surface of my shoe's sole.
My feet make kind of some funny sounds or irritating noises for the peaceful souls round me. I sit over here, tapping my feet, feeling the rhythm, killing the minute and innocent insects, claiming the hospital isn't anything free of termite, even though I haven't personally gone up there to check, or there is anything wooden in my sight. I am just, useless.
8:00 pm
Tick tock tick tock tick took – whish whoosh hush – err, this operation theatre is so bloody silent, I can hear the sound of my own bloody wrist watch I removed outside and wore over my clothes, this gross-green colored uniform and this mask that's not gonna let me breathe. Water that's trickling down the tap in the adjacent washroom is also making an audible sound.
This lady over here seizes to be my wife's doc - reminiscent of the ward-boy I scared away with all my yelping an hour back. I don't know, all these people – they look just the same. I refuse to even acknowledge the indigenous characteristics of a male and a female - distinguish and explain who is who. Anyhow, it doesn't matter.
If astronauts wore green space suits, which they don't – they would have looked just like I do right now. If Nupur had been so quiet without the anesthesia, I might have contained that and not looked terrified of the silence, yes, her silence fears me but not this. I am crucified, I am moronic and I am going to be a father any moment. Well, I know there's still some time for that. But, with my tie on which I smeared both ketchup and ink together – I also dumped my no-nonsense man thing in the trash can downstairs. I am nothing but nonsensical right now.
8:25 pm
Bloodshed is what I call it. I had learnt the whole process in biology many years ago, and my concepts are still thorough but never before had I felt I could do a better caesarean than the doc, and claim that my wife would have bled less. Anyway, I am still saved from the whole my pocket would have had punched through it, I have insurances. Gosh, shut up. So, anyway – I think I can be a better surgeon.
8:30 pm
Time consuming, really! I am flattered, though – Nupur just smiled at me and told me that her lower half doesn't feel anything. Heck, dint I already know that? However, I'd like to believe she doesn't want to know what I suffer. I panic more right now, it is like she is holding onto my hand, keeping me off the whole bickering that I might subject the doctor to.
I really want to order her to hurry up, but I can't. Imagine me getting any dumber today! Something's sinking inside, I am not sure if I can stand this anymore. I remember Nupur being a vampire fan in college; I would just grimace then and wonder what kind of a fanatic my girlfriend was. Now, I get to truly feel disgusted, no – none of us is a vampire, the blood's scent, no stink – the whole substance is making me go crazy. Are these people designing an aircraft in my wife's stomach?!
8:40
Alright, this is all too surreal, even the no-power apartment I can see through the window shines – I have been through the procedure, like I know it's pain only to the mother three-fourths of her year and it does not strike the father unless he is overwhelmed, somehow holding his cleaned up, pink-cheeked juvenile in his then shaking, now stern arms, strong arms. Arms of an expectant and responsible hero, hero to the kid of course – my wife already thinks I'm hot so I don't have to be a hero.
Nothing coaxed me to come to think of this either, that this baby that got its life entitled to me and this almost unconscious lady I have been kissing continuously for the past six minutes now has brought to me some immensely deep feelings, uh. She's not the aircraft that the doc was designing and is now out of the uterus the nurse was playing hockey with, she's given rise to desires I never expressed, never knew existed in some corner of my head.
I was just playing around with responsibilities, here's the toughest and tiniest and pinkest of them all. I like it.
____________________
I couldn't bring out much humor, you know? It is a waste, in fact. Because today was not my day, sigh. But I wrote this, I had to. Tell me how you like it.
Edited by -Kanky- - 14 years ago
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