Posted:
First, a personal note--both my father and my mother-in-law have been hospitalized, so you can imagine the wonderful month I have had. I apolgize for totally shutting off, but they are both better, one is home,the other is on the mend, so I can breathe a sigh of relief and focus on my writing once again. This story is almost done--I have the other parts written, but I literally could not get to a laptop to post and then do PMs, so forgive me for the delay. Also, Ramnvj, if you are reading this--Perfecton will be posted next, and I was able to work on that only, ONLY because of your encouragement. As long as even one person reads my work, I promise to continue, damn the Serial...so please do comment, readers!
CHAPTER NINE
Amrita had waited. She had listened. At the playground, Amrita's initial shock and fear for Khushi had given way to an eerie frozen calm, as she had heard Anjali's stammered explanations for her missing child. She had touched Khushi Kumari Gupta's picture gently and stroked the soft features immortalized there, as Anjali had tried to explain why little Khushi had made such an impact on her brother. Yes, Khushi did look a lot like the dead woman in the faded snapshot, Amrita had agreed. Yes, she would listen to Arnav's excuses and explanations. Amrita had not gone to the police, she had silently followed Anjali Raizada back to Arnav Singh Raizada's palatial home.
She had sat calmly, patiently, drinking her tea and speaking politely to her boss's sister and to Aakash sir. She sat now, in the house of the man who had kidnapped her daughter. She had watched Anjali receive and make phone calls, and had caught a fleeting glimpse of Aman Sir walk in with another woman, whom he had immediately taken to the study. She had waited. And internally, she had burned, with the fire and rage of a woman pushed so far past her tolerance, there was only raw anger and utter fury inside of her.
When little Khushi arrived, with Payal and Simran, she was scolded by her mother, and then sent off to wash up with Simran Didi, up to her bedroom. Khushi, frightened out of her wits by the rage in her mother's eyes, could have told the adults assembled here the truth'that her momma was really REALLY mad, and was about to do something serious. Canceling a birthday party kind of serious. But one look into those blazing eyes had sent the child scuttling for the relative safety of Simran Didi's bedroom.
As Khushi was taken away by Simran, she found herself thinking that momma would have to calm down when she met with Uncle-ji, and maybe she would not be THIS mad once he got home. Uncle ji would handle momma.
There would be a big spanking tonight, for sure, thought Khushi, as she ran up the stairs, following Simran Didi to her room. But, she thought philosophically, looking at the bright side of a bad situation, as all naughty little girls learn to do -- At least there had been two boxes of chocolates, and lots of ice-cream today, too. In her world view, these things evened out.
Since the only person who could have told them what Amrita was really feeling was out of the room by the time Arnav came into it, Anjali and Aakash were congratulating themselves on how calm they had managed to keep their guest'right up until when their guest stood up, and greeted Arnav Singh Raizada by slapping him across the face.
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"I waited patiently all evening to do that, Mr ASR. Now you know that I am not going to sit quietly while you steal my little girl. I will fight you if take someone you have no right to, to take my baby and drive off to do God knows what. You are lucky that is all I am doing to you'and only because I still believe that you are not a pervert or a nut, just an arrogant, disturbed man. Someone who has lost his wife and child and now is trying to steal my baby to fill the hole in his heart he himself made.
You should thank your sister for telling me about the woman Khushi who you basically drove to a death, Mr. Raizada. For her sake, I am not doing more than this slap'even though, like her, you are driving me into leaving my home too. Consider this my resignation, Mr. ASR. Tomorrow, I will start the process of leaving Delhi forever. We will leave everything behind, and I will never let you see Khushi again. I am done. I will move with my child somewhere you cannot find us, and I will sever all ties, all relationships that you have forced on me and Khushi.
And trust me, Mr Raizada. I will fight you if you try to stop me. I will accuse you of kidnapping, and if you don't back off, this will be your last day as a free man."
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"For an exit line, it was pretty good.."Aman thought, as he approached the silent, shocked tableau in the living room. The three frozen Raizadas watched Amrita gather her things and turn, about to call her daughter down from the bedroom. Aman admired the strength and courage it had taken this young woman to do what she had done, to say what she had said to the most powerful man in Delhi. She had been powerful, elemental. A mother in defense of her child. She was right. Absolutely right in her place. But, of course, she was also, completely, tragically, wrong.
Quietly, Aman edged into the tempestuous atmosphere, ushering the elegant, silver haired woman into the living room ahead of him. Anjali had turned to hug her Chote, trying to soothe a face that had lock-jawed into stone, while Aakash, stammering, had gone to fetch Khushi down from his daughter Simran's room. Everyone was preoccupied other than her, and thus, it was Amrita Singh who saw Dr Rithika Bose first.
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Years later, Amita Singh would think back to this very minute, and wonder if she had always known. Wonder whether, in her heart of hearts, in her bones and sinews, if she had always known that Khushi was not, in fact, her own flesh and blood. Because when Dr. Ritika Bose approached Amrita with an expression on her face that was equal parts pity and worry, if she had not always somehow known the truth, Amrita would not have said what she did say. She would have been confused, surprised to see her old OB-GYN suddenly show up in Raizada Mansion's living room, she would have suspected a trick by these rich people. She would have been suspicious, maybe angry. But she would not have said what she did say. And what Amrita said, almost instinctively was' "How?"
"Sit down, Amrita." Ritika Bose's calm, controlled voice broke the tension as everyone turned to face the unknown woman who Aman had brought in. Dr Bose introduced herself to Arnav and Anjali, and warmly greeted Payal, who had come down, without Khushi, to see what the commotion was about. Payal had actually gone to the eminent doctor to get some consultations done during her own pregnancy, so she was not completely confused by who this elegant woman was. But like everyone else, she had no idea why Dr Bose was here.
Such was the doctor's calm strength of character, suddenly everyone found themselves seated, around the coffee table with cups in their hand, in some grotesque parody of a civilized tea party.
"How is Khushi?" asked Dr. Ritika Bose and Amrita responded almost automatically, telling her OB-GYN that little Khushi was doing fine, she was bright, and happy, and had no allergies. Arnav at this point made a comment about little Khushi liking chocolates, and Amrita found herself responding to him, politely, agreeing that chocolates were Khushi's weakness, and she was always worried about cavities.
The tea cup rattled in her hand, tea spilling over the porcelain edges. Amrita felt like she was in some nightmare, where she was trapped in an eternal loop of hell, being forced to smile and say thank you and respond to questions when all she felt like doing was screaming out her fear. A nightmare where she felt danger prickling along her skin, ready to tear into her life and rend her world into pieces.
And then, just like in a nightmare, Amrita's world did end. Gently, Dr Ritika Bose turned to Amrita, and said:
"Khushi is not your baby, Amrita. Your own child was still-born. I am so sorry. I did this to you, and to Pradeep, and I prayed that no one would ever find out. Please forgive me Amrita. But given the information Mr Aman Mathur has given me, there is no doubt in my mind. The baby I substituted for your own is Arnav Singh Raizada's lost daughter."
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The story took the shocked listeners back seven years, to a foggy evening in August. Pradeep Singh and his seven months pregnant wife had been driving home from a visit to a movie theatre, when their little car had been hit from behind by a large van. The van had hit the car in such a way, the little car had been pushed forward, to the edge of the guard rail, and Pradeep Singh had had moments to decide whether to save his own life by jumping out of the vehicle, or throw himself bodily against his wife, and thus save her life and that of his child's. Everyone in the room already knew what choice this man had made.
The doctor's story went on, weaving a spell of tragedy around the silent listeners. The accident had a blur for Amrita. Now, either years later, as she sat, quietly, losing every last thing that mattered to her in this life, she heard about what really happened that night, that deprived her of her husband.
She was told, now, as were the Raizadas who sat with her, about how the van was bound for Dr Bose's clinic, and was being driven by a relative of hers, a young nephew who had made a simple mistake driving on the foggy road, and had caused the Singh's car to skid. Dr Bose now told them how she had arrived at the scene immediately after being called by her panicked nephew, to find that Pradeep Singh was already dead, his wife, a heavily pregnant woman, unconscious but bleeding heavily.
Dr Bose had immediately called for an ambulance, and with the help of the police, arranged for Amrita's immediate hospitalization. There, she had herself examined an unconscious Amrita, only to find out, to her shock, that the baby had no heart beat--the accident had killed the unborn baby as well as Pradeep Singh.
Pradeep's sacrifice, when he threw himself before his wife's body, in the split few seconds before the car accident'that sacrifice had been in vain. The impact had killed the baby. Amrita would still have to deliver---she was over seven months into her pregnancy--- but the baby would be stillborn. Amrita's own doctors had despaired of telling their vulnerable patient the horrific news of her twin losses. Emotionally, she would not be able to take the shock. Dr Bose, feeling responsible for her own clinic van's role in the accident, had decided, then and there, to take Amrita to her own clinic. She had transferred Amrita to her own clinic in Juhu, to tend to her until her tragic birth.
Dr Bose had always intended to slowly reveal to the unknowing mother the full extent of her loss. Now, looking at the white, strained face of the woman before her, Dr Bose continued, with pity:
"But I couldn't do it Amrita. The only thing that made you go on, that let you live after you woke up, and realized Pradeep had left you, was your determination to give birth to the child that Pradeep had given his life to save. Many times, while you were under my care, I came to tell you the truth. But I knew you. I knew you would not be able to take the loss. So I did something that I truly believed would help you. I have contacts all over India, as a well known obstetrician, I also donate my time and expertise to cases at free clinics and shelters. I have friends who are at ashrams, in shelters and women's clinics.
I asked some trusted individuals who run these places, places where babies are given for adoption, to immediately let me know if they have any baby that needs placement, a female baby, of a certain age--newborn. And then, a few days before your own delivery date, I got just such a call, from an ashram in Shimla.
A Sister who was taking care of a young woman, a woman with no family, no husband, got in touch with me. The Sister told me she was sure, given how ill and weak the young woman was, that this would be a difficult pregnancy, and that there was very little chance of a safe delivery. She gave me the expected delivery date, mentioned that the young woman might be ready give her child for adoption. The Sister was not sure, the girl loved her unborn baby, and always spoke to it, made little bonnets and caps for the upcoming birth, but the truth was, she was very weak. The girl had no one to leave the child to, in case she didn't make it through her delivery. The Sister then asked me to come and attend to the girl during her delivery, as all signs pointed to a very complicated birth.
I never got to meet the girl, you know. The girl at the ashram, who I now know to be Khushi Gupta--Arnav Singh Raizada's wife. The only person she spoke to was the Sister, and by the time I came for the delivery, she had died from premature complications.
That young woman--Khushi Gupta-- had arrived at the Ashram a few months before her due date, but she would not give any family information, she would not even reveal her child's father. We both thought, the Sister and I, that this must be a typical story, a run-away, an unhappy girl left pregnant and desperate, who's on family has not allowed her to live with them because of her situation. Like a thousand cases, a million cases, in our country, every year.
But the dates would match, and the Sister knew it was to be a baby girl. So I flew to Shimla, planning to attend to this woman, help her with her delivery, and then perhaps ask her, if she was willing, to let me place her baby girl with Amrita. But I arrived too late---the woman---Khushi Gupta--- had gone into premature labor, and the child was born too early. The mother died, and the baby was a "blue baby"...no signs of life, lungs congested, seemingly lifeless.
Khushi Gupta never held her child in her arms--she was dead by the time I arrived at the Ashram. But when I saw the baby, I knew she could be saved, and fortunately, her nurse, the Sister, agreed to let me have her without delay, without caring about procedure and paperwork. If I had stopped to fill out all formalities the baby would surely have died-she was minutes away from acute cyanitosis.
I admit I was glad to be able to avoid all the needed paperwork, to let it be assumed that the ashram had lost both mother and child. They can be very cruel to these nameless children in orphanages, which is where the baby would have been placed---and that is assuming the child would have lived past the first 24 hours. I believe little Khushi would have died if she had not been taken to a clinic and properly treated and monitored.
That is what I did. I flew home, with the baby, that very evening. I wanted Amrita to have her child, and this seemed to be God's own way of getting her an unwanted baby girl, a girl with a dead mother, and no chance of a real life outside of an orphanage.
So I brought the baby away, and, in two days, when Amrita went into labor and had to undergo a C-section to remove her own stillborn girl, I gave little Khushi to her when she woke up. I thought I was doing God's work, in a way-a motherless baby, given to a childless widow. An unloved, unwanted thrown-away child, would have the boundless love of a good mother. She would be given a home, a family and a name.
And eight years passed.
I had even forgotten about little Khushi and her new mother, until Aman Mathur came to my hospital, looking for the information about a girl named Khushi, born to a widow, Amrita Singh. And with him, to see if there was any way, any chance of a miracle, he brought pictures and blood reports of the dead woman he was trying to match with the child--Khushi Gupta's records. I remembered her face, immediately; I had seen her, as she lay, dead, on the clinic bed. I remembered her face. So I went through her records, and spoke to him. I called up the Sister, who had retired from the ashram, to be sure of my facts.
The Gods really were working that evening, eight years ago, Amrita. The Gods were trying to protect a baby, but also, they were trying to make sure that baby had a wonderful home, a mother and a life. That the baby had you, in her life. That she never missed her mother. And today'they are working again today, to try and reunite that baby, with her father.
With all the pieces of the puzzle in place, I knew, the time had come. That baby's family had come, after all. Eight years too late, but the father, he had found his baby girl. And I could not stay quiet, Amrita. Little Khushi is Arnav Singh Raizada's child, born to Khushi Gupta, his wife. Born in Shimla, at the Ashram she had gone to, eight years ago---there is no question. This is Arnav Singh Raizada's child."
PART 10 :https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/post/72210197
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