“Impossible situations can become possible miracles.”
It was the peak hours of noon; Mukti had eaten and wanted to go to the terrace to play with her friends from the neighborhood. I scowled and tried, ineffectually, to persuade her for a short nap with me. I was unusually more tired these days after the day’s work as I was in the first trimester of my second pregnancy and often felt sluggish in the afternoons. But she insisted to go to the terrace and as usual always found a way with me, the moment I would nod in disagreement her big, wide eyes would shot up a bewildered look at me and her innocence would traverse through my heart filling it with motherly love and compassion and I would let her be just to win her dazzling smile back. In no time would she know that she had won, as my face always gave it away. She beamed at me, jumped up and down, gathered her things and ran through the door before I could change my mind. She is wittier than a three year old is expected to be.
I reached out for my book on growing up toddlers, picked up the keys and locked the apartment which was just a floor below the five storied, recently constructed building in south Kolkata. We had shifted here lately and even though it lacked greenery and gardens it was convenient place with all the amenities for a decent living.
I climbed the stairs lethargically and sat on the lone chair with my book, to keep a watch on the children playing. “Only one has come!!!” I heard Mukti’s excited voice from the other end of the, not so big, terrace delimited by a short waist length wall, as she had out beaten the others by coming early. The winds were playing with my hair and I had to firmly hold the pages of my book as I read, occasionally lifting my head to peek at the children who were now seated on their tricycles, and were racing with each other. Now and then I heard the other child roar and complain as Mukti would touch the hypothetical winning mark first throwing a glance at me with a victorious smile, making sure that I am looking at her.
Suddenly, I remembered that I was expecting a call and had forgotten my phone in the apartment. I raised and shouted from the exit of the terrace “Mukti, mamma will be back in a few, please behave, don’t fight” as the other one was losing patience and I heard them squabbling behind me as I climbed down the stairs carefully.
I was about to dial, walking towards the door with my keys when all of a sudden Mukti’s playmate came running down the stairs and screaming something in a broken voice which I understood as Mukti had fallen down, “Oh! Did you both fight again?” -I retorted. She said “No” with a strange and horrified look in her eyes that scared me and I hastened without caring to lock the apartment, without bothering to remember that it was the third month of my expectancy. I was shocked to not find Mukti on the terrace, I scanned the space with my eyes several times but she wasn’t there. I looked questioningly at the child who had followed me and she lamented “we heard songs coming from the pujo pandal which was in the vicinity of the building, Mukti wanted to see and she climbed on the tricycle to peep down and … “I screamed stopping her in mid-sentence, running to the railing but could see nothing as everything was a blur and the world whirled around me as I felt dizzy. I tried to scamper downstairs as fast as I could to salvage whatever was left of my angelic daughter. My feet felt like rock and it took a great effort to lift them up, the treeless backyard, the bare cemented ground, the wires, the broken glasses on the fencing wall of the high-rise that had not bothered me as yet were now piercingly flashing in my mind alongside the eyes that held my life in them and the smile of my little one which I may not see now were clouding my visions.
As I reached the backyard, to the probable location where Mukti could have fallen along with the neighbors whom the child had gathered by now, I could not find her there, I looked around frantically wiping the mist in my eyes and saw my baby curled up on a little bed of mud holding two pots of “tulsi” plants that had gotten dislodged by her fall. It was the size of a sleeping pillow and was the only soft earth in the patch. My jaw dropped as I saw her cushioned by the plants. She was unconscious, I was stoned. The watchman picked her up, a maid who had witnessed the fall stood there motionless weeping as she was recounting how she saw the child leaning on the rails of the terrace and she was gesturing her to back off, she said “I saw the child losing balance before I could do anything the wind carried her down as if she were a feather”. The watchman patted her back as she wasn’t breathing , I finally found my voice and called out her name, she choked to our relief and let out a small cry along with a broken sound “Ma…mm…a!!!” My heart went out to her and I felt her pain. The watchman exclaimed “It’s a miracle!!” The wind blew and brought her to this part of the backyard …I looked up and realized that he was right, Mukti would have fallen on the concrete if it hadn’t been a windy day. It was an impossible situation and everyone present there were amazed. The neighbors helped me as I rushed her to the hospital. I was worried about internal injuries as on the surface she did not have more than a scratch.
After a few hours, the doctor came out of the critical care unit and asked us to go inside where my beautiful angel lied, we touched her gently as she opened her eyes and looked at us with a puzzled expression. We turned to the nurse and she said in a soft voice “Baby you have fractured your left leg and hip bone, it will take few weeks to heal, so you better relax and play indoors.” My husband who was fighting his tears asked the nurse in a low voice “Is there anything to worry about?” the nurse looked at us and smiled echoing the words that were in my mind, “It’s a miracle”.
“Papa, today we were playing on the terrace , I leaned on to look down at the pandal where some people were singing and suddenly I started to fly like power puff girls and landed on the pots almost breaking one”, Mukti was narrating the incidence with lucidity, then she changed her voice to complaining , “the watchman uncle was hitting me on my back and it was hurting”, I intervened and said, this time convincingly, “ no dear, you were taking a nap with me when you rolled over and fell down from the bed, all this was just a nightmare. She was thinking and when her dad reaffirmed to what I had said she finally believed and mumbled in a small voice, “papa I am scared of nightmares.” We held her free hand and stayed like that for a long time, thanking God, in many ways, in our hearts… feeling the blissful silence as she drifted away to sleep.
By Shreeja Mohatta Jhawar,
(A real story of my friend, names withheld on request)
Graphics and Web Designer by profession, freelance writer and editor by choice, compiling a book called ‘Rendezvous with God and ‘Move On’ based on interviews of celebrities and others, philanthropist and founder of Kritagya Foundation, which helps in reinstating the lives of old and destitute. Shreeja is an independent and liberal thinker. She believes in all religions and is spiritually inclined. She is a dreamer and chases them with passion. She resides in Kolkata with her family and 5 year old son. She can be reached at shreeja.jhawar@gmail .com and can be read on www.shreejajhawar.blogspot.com.
It was the peak hours of noon; Mukti had eaten and wanted to go to the terrace to play with her friends from the neighborhood. I scowled and tried, ineffectually, to persuade her for a short nap with me. I was unusually more tired these days after the day’s work as I was in the first trimester of my second pregnancy and often felt sluggish in the afternoons. But she insisted to go to the terrace and as usual always found a way with me, the moment I would nod in disagreement her big, wide eyes would shot up a bewildered look at me and her innocence would traverse through my heart filling it with motherly love and compassion and I would let her be just to win her dazzling smile back. In no time would she know that she had won, as my face always gave it away. She beamed at me, jumped up and down, gathered her things and ran through the door before I could change my mind. She is wittier than a three year old is expected to be.
I reached out for my book on growing up toddlers, picked up the keys and locked the apartment which was just a floor below the five storied, recently constructed building in south Kolkata. We had shifted here lately and even though it lacked greenery and gardens it was convenient place with all the amenities for a decent living.
I climbed the stairs lethargically and sat on the lone chair with my book, to keep a watch on the children playing. “Only one has come!!!” I heard Mukti’s excited voice from the other end of the, not so big, terrace delimited by a short waist length wall, as she had out beaten the others by coming early. The winds were playing with my hair and I had to firmly hold the pages of my book as I read, occasionally lifting my head to peek at the children who were now seated on their tricycles, and were racing with each other. Now and then I heard the other child roar and complain as Mukti would touch the hypothetical winning mark first throwing a glance at me with a victorious smile, making sure that I am looking at her.
Suddenly, I remembered that I was expecting a call and had forgotten my phone in the apartment. I raised and shouted from the exit of the terrace “Mukti, mamma will be back in a few, please behave, don’t fight” as the other one was losing patience and I heard them squabbling behind me as I climbed down the stairs carefully.
I was about to dial, walking towards the door with my keys when all of a sudden Mukti’s playmate came running down the stairs and screaming something in a broken voice which I understood as Mukti had fallen down, “Oh! Did you both fight again?” -I retorted. She said “No” with a strange and horrified look in her eyes that scared me and I hastened without caring to lock the apartment, without bothering to remember that it was the third month of my expectancy. I was shocked to not find Mukti on the terrace, I scanned the space with my eyes several times but she wasn’t there. I looked questioningly at the child who had followed me and she lamented “we heard songs coming from the pujo pandal which was in the vicinity of the building, Mukti wanted to see and she climbed on the tricycle to peep down and … “I screamed stopping her in mid-sentence, running to the railing but could see nothing as everything was a blur and the world whirled around me as I felt dizzy. I tried to scamper downstairs as fast as I could to salvage whatever was left of my angelic daughter. My feet felt like rock and it took a great effort to lift them up, the treeless backyard, the bare cemented ground, the wires, the broken glasses on the fencing wall of the high-rise that had not bothered me as yet were now piercingly flashing in my mind alongside the eyes that held my life in them and the smile of my little one which I may not see now were clouding my visions.
As I reached the backyard, to the probable location where Mukti could have fallen along with the neighbors whom the child had gathered by now, I could not find her there, I looked around frantically wiping the mist in my eyes and saw my baby curled up on a little bed of mud holding two pots of “tulsi” plants that had gotten dislodged by her fall. It was the size of a sleeping pillow and was the only soft earth in the patch. My jaw dropped as I saw her cushioned by the plants. She was unconscious, I was stoned. The watchman picked her up, a maid who had witnessed the fall stood there motionless weeping as she was recounting how she saw the child leaning on the rails of the terrace and she was gesturing her to back off, she said “I saw the child losing balance before I could do anything the wind carried her down as if she were a feather”. The watchman patted her back as she wasn’t breathing , I finally found my voice and called out her name, she choked to our relief and let out a small cry along with a broken sound “Ma…mm…a!!!” My heart went out to her and I felt her pain. The watchman exclaimed “It’s a miracle!!” The wind blew and brought her to this part of the backyard …I looked up and realized that he was right, Mukti would have fallen on the concrete if it hadn’t been a windy day. It was an impossible situation and everyone present there were amazed. The neighbors helped me as I rushed her to the hospital. I was worried about internal injuries as on the surface she did not have more than a scratch.
After a few hours, the doctor came out of the critical care unit and asked us to go inside where my beautiful angel lied, we touched her gently as she opened her eyes and looked at us with a puzzled expression. We turned to the nurse and she said in a soft voice “Baby you have fractured your left leg and hip bone, it will take few weeks to heal, so you better relax and play indoors.” My husband who was fighting his tears asked the nurse in a low voice “Is there anything to worry about?” the nurse looked at us and smiled echoing the words that were in my mind, “It’s a miracle”.
“Papa, today we were playing on the terrace , I leaned on to look down at the pandal where some people were singing and suddenly I started to fly like power puff girls and landed on the pots almost breaking one”, Mukti was narrating the incidence with lucidity, then she changed her voice to complaining , “the watchman uncle was hitting me on my back and it was hurting”, I intervened and said, this time convincingly, “ no dear, you were taking a nap with me when you rolled over and fell down from the bed, all this was just a nightmare. She was thinking and when her dad reaffirmed to what I had said she finally believed and mumbled in a small voice, “papa I am scared of nightmares.” We held her free hand and stayed like that for a long time, thanking God, in many ways, in our hearts… feeling the blissful silence as she drifted away to sleep.
By Shreeja Mohatta Jhawar,
(A real story of my friend, names withheld on request)
Graphics and Web Designer by profession, freelance writer and editor by choice, compiling a book called ‘Rendezvous with God and ‘Move On’ based on interviews of celebrities and others, philanthropist and founder of Kritagya Foundation, which helps in reinstating the lives of old and destitute. Shreeja is an independent and liberal thinker. She believes in all religions and is spiritually inclined. She is a dreamer and chases them with passion. She resides in Kolkata with her family and 5 year old son. She can be reached at shreeja.jhawar@gmail .com and can be read on www.shreejajhawar.blogspot.com.
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