Baby

Zehra slithered out of her bed as quietly as she could and walked to the bathroom. There she turned on the geyser, squeezed the sparkling red toothpaste on her toothbrush, and began brushing her teeth vigorously. When she was done she rinsed her mouth thoroughly and looked at herself in the small mirror above the sink. She had bags under her eyes and a crop of white hair near her temples. Her cheeks, once taut and shiny had begun to sag and frown lines had started to develop in the center of her forehead. In two days she would be forty-. Time was running out. And the desire fermenting in her heart for years had reached the point of desperation. 

Money. Only if they had the money, life would have been so much better. If they had sufficient money they might as well have had a baby by now. But as things stood she was a barren woman married to a poor man.

When Zehra came out of the bath her husband was still asleep; the only sounds in the house, at this peaceful hour being, of the fan, whizzing and the clock ticking. Zehra spread her prayer rug and offered her fajr prayer. Then she placed a pan on the stove and put in it water for two cups of tea. At this hour even the mundane acts made too much noise. The utensils no matter how gently Zehra handled them seemed to clank against each other. She didn't like this silence. She liked it better when the people in the neighborhood woke and started about their noisy business. She liked particularly, the sound of children playing. In the evening she would sit near the small gate of her house and watch them as they played cricket, catch, and of late, football.

If she had had a child when she was supposed to have, it would have been sixteen now. Life would have been drastically different, her present emotionally secure, her old age insured. But those were not the reasons she desired a child. So couldn't put her finger on why she desired it. The desire in itself was the reason - self-sufficient and compelling. So compelling in fact that seventeen years of barrenness and dozens of disappointments couldn't douse it. Recently she had consulted a new doctor. She showed her the prescriptions of the last sixteen years, the allopathic ones, of course. She didn't tell her about the alternate medicines - of Homeopath, Unani, and Ayurveda that she had tried for months along with the dietary prohibitions that came with them. Zehra knew from experience that Allopathy doctors frowned on these systems of medicine. This new doctor, no more than thirty years old, advised her to go for IVF.

Zehra had been advised IVF before. Its cost however had been prohibitive. Moreover, there were no IVF centers in this small town of theirs. They would have had to travel to one of the bigger cities of their state to avail themselves of the treatment. The travel and stay in a big city made the overall cost even more prohibitive and they had given up on the idea. That was two years ago. When Zehra told the new doctor about her constrained financial circumstances, the doctor said that she could avail her concessions at one of the IVF centers in Lucknow.

Lucknow was where one of her brothers had recently started living. She didn't get along well with this brother of hers and his wife. The last time they had talked was eight months ago, on the day of Eid. After the mandatory exchange of salams and the cursory Eid greetings, she had asked after her brother's children and he had asked after her husband. After that, they had nothing meaningful to exchange, so entrusting each other to God they had disconnected the line. His sharp-tongued wife Zehra avoided like plague. Soon after her first miscarriage, she had accused Zehra of doing sorcery and black magic on her to cure her own infertility. That accusation had devasted Zehra and she had decided to have nothing to do with her sister-in-law for the rest of her life. But now it seemed, she will have to gulp down her pride and seek help from this very sister-in-law of hers.

'Anything, I will bear anything for a child,' Zehra thought aloud as she poured tea in two small and pretty cups.

'Talking to yourself?' her husband said coming out of the bath and putting a skull cap on his bald head.

'I am going to talk to my brother in Lucknow today,' she said.

'I don't think they will agree to host you for as long as one month,' he said 'and even if they do, things will start to tense up in a few days and you will not be able to stay.'

'People go to unimaginable lengths for the sake of their children,' Zehra said 'I can surely put up with an ill-tempered woman for a month if that gets me a child. Besides, it has been so many years. She might have changed now!'

'People's basic nature never changes. I am very wary of getting into this situation,' said Zehra's husband.

When she called her brother and asked her if she could stay with them in Lucknow for a month he told her that it will not be possible for her to stay with them as they had just two rooms. One of them occupied by him and his wife and the other by his children. Zehra felt crestfallen, although what else was she expecting? Can people blessed with children understand the desperation of a forty-year-old childless woman? Years ago Zehra had asked her eldest sister, a mother of three to give her youngest to Zehra to bring up. She had refused to cite her husband's unwillingness. That was untrue, Zehra had come to know later. Her sister had never even consulted her husband about giving away the child to her younger sister.

Now, to her brother on the other end of the line, she said, 'Dont you want me to have a child-like everyone else has?'

Zehra felt like a beggar invoking pity in the other person so that he feels obliged to help erase his misery.

'I am sure you will have a child by God's will,' said her brother trying to gently extract himself from the situation Zehra had placed him in.

'Then consider this God's will that I should have to come to Lucknow for the procedure,' Zehra said, not knowing if putting her self-respect on the anvil was a good idea or not.

'I will find a room for you,' said her brother.

'You know we can't afford that,' Zehra said feeling tears sting her eyes.

'Let me consult my wife,' he said with the hope that mentioning his wife would dissuade his sister.

'It's your job to convince her. What am I asking for after all? Just one month at your place. Isn't a sister entitled to that much?' Zehra said.

'Have you forgotten how you behaved with my wife in the past?' her brother said.

'How I behaved you are asking? You are blaming me? When it was your wife who had put the most insinuating charges at me!' Zehra said narrowing her eyes, controlling her anger.

'Yes, but she had realized her mistake and invited you to the aqeeqa ceremony of our elder child. Hadn't she? And how had you responded?'

Zehra at the time she had been invited for the aqeeqa had not yet overcome the humiliation heaped on her two years earlier. To compound Zehra's despise of her sister-in-law was the fact she hadn't been particularly kind to Zehra's ailing mother in the last days of her life. Her sister-in-law's razor-sharp tongue had caused the old woman much agony and she often complained about it to her daughters. When, two months after their mother's demise Zehra's brother planned the aqeeqa of his firstborn and asked his sisters to come Zehra retorted by saying that she shouldn't be invited, lest her evil intentions cause harm to the child. And because she had said that she had said in front of visiting relatives the news of Zehra's sister-in-law's insensitive approach towards Zehra's infertility soon reached far and wide. Even distant relatives who had never even met the couple came to know that Zehra's brother and his wife were the kinds of people who taunt their childless sister, traumatize their dying mother, and hold celebrations in less than two months after their mother's demise.

And now Zehra needed this very brother and sister-in-law to help her out.

'I will apologize to her,' Zehra said abruptly.

'No need for all that. I will talk to her and let you know,' said Zehra's brother.

After disconnecting the line Zehra sat fixed at her place for a long time. She couldn't believe what she had just said. Apologize? She was ready to apologize to her sister-in-law? The desperation to have a child was surely driving her insane. Why couldn't she simply have a child-like most other women?

Zehra thought about all the women who conceive naturally then go on to have normal deliveries in luxury hospitals. Nowadays they have newborn photo sessions too. Very expensive affair. People who don't know what to do with all their spare money have to devise these practices. Then people who don't even have too much spare money carry forward the tradition because they can't imagine lagging behind the have-alls. And then there are people like herself and her husband, Zehra thought, who try to have a child on a shoestring budget!

The next day her brother called and said that she and her husband may come over to stay with them. Zehra was thrilled. She asked him to convey her thanks to his wife. Then she asked her brother if it took a lot of convincing on his part to make his wife agree.

'Umm..no..first she was a bit reluctant, then she agreed on her own,' said her brother.

'I see,' said Zehra happily.

'Do you have money for the procedure,' asked her brother.

'Yes after discount it will come to 75000 rupees. Most of that we have. The remaining we will borrow,' Zehra said.

'I will not be able to help in that, let me clarify beforehand,' said her brother.

'No, no, of course not,' Zehra said.

Later that night when Zehra appraised her husband of the developments he told her that he had all of fifty thousand in his bank account.

'But last week you told me you had sixty-five thousand,' Zehra said shocked.

'My brother called. I have lent him fifteen thousand,' Zebra's husband said softly, sensing the storm that was brewing up.

'Lent him!' Zehra shouted, 'knowing that he never ever returns a penny of what he takes!'

'His business went to the dogs during the lockdown. He needed money to restart,' Zehra's husband replied.

'He and his business are very fine! What about me and my child? Who is supposed to look after us?' Zehra shouted, her face contorting with anger. Zehra's husband realized that any attempt to evade her outburst would be futile.

'Your child?' he asked looking directly at her.

'Yes! My child that your greedy brother and his greedy wife wouldn't let me have. It is my fault. I shouldn't have told his wife about my IVF plan,' Zehra shouted.

'You are perceiving things wrongly,' said her husband gently placing a hand on her shoulders.

'No! I am not,' Zehra said bursting into tears,' Two days ago I asked her to pray for a successful procedure. They realized you must have saved up something if I am talking of an expensive procedure and immediately wrenched the money out of you.'

'This is just your assumption my dear. Who knows if my brother's wife even told him about your procedure or even if she knew that he was going to ask money from me,' said her husband.

'You keep defending your people, you keep spending on them and let me die a barren woman,' Zehra said. This time she did not shout but as she spoke her nostrils flared and her eyes brimmed with tears.

'We will do something,' her husband said.

'Do what? We need at least ninety thousand in hand. Twenty-five ko my sister had agreed to lend me. Now who will lend us the remaining fifteen?' she asked as two solitary tears rolled down each of her cheeks.

'Can you ask your brother? Tell him I will return the money in the next three months,' said Zehra's husband.

'My brother has already insured himself against such an eventuality,' Zehra replied sarcastically, wiping her tears and dialing her sister's number.

Zehra couldn't decide if she should ask her sister for more money or not, but she could at least lighten her heart by talking to her. Of late though, she had been sensing a coldness develops between her and her sister. It seemed to Zehra that her sister now avoided picking her calls and when she did she wouldn't talk for long, always excusing herself out of the conversation on one pretext or the other. Each time it had something to do with the children - the eldest needing help with homework, the second eldest wanting snacks, or the youngest wetting himself in the washroom. Zehra felt that her sister deliberately rubbed her elevated status as a mother in Zehra's lowly face. Presently the rings were about to come to an end, without her sister picking up the call. A fear-tinged bitterness had begun to crystallize in Zehra's heart when the rings broke and she heard her sister's painting 'hello' on the line. Immediately the crystals dissolved away and Zehra burst into tears.

Zehra said that her husband was her greatest enemy followed by his brother's wife and his brother. Of her own brother, she said that his attitude was that of a reluctant alms giver towards his own sister. Zehra's sister heard her out - patiently, without interrupting, allowing Zehra to vent it all out. At last when Zehra felt better and her sobbing subsided her sister gently told her that she had been misperceiving people and situations.

'You are messed up Zehra, you are making a villain out of everyone,' were are precise words.

'Oh, and I forgot to tell you about your own indifferent and cold attitude towards me,' Zehra replied sharply.

'You are unbelievable Zehra,' said her sister.

'Please go on with your life, I am fine rotting here,' Zehra said and disconnected the call.

She sat there, staring out at the street visible from the window of her room. Occassionally a ball would come and hit the main iron gate with a thud and occassionally a young lad would call out to a friend in his cracking voice. Eventually, the sun started its downward descent and the muazzin gave the call for Asr - the post afternoon prayer. Zehra's phone beeped. A message. Forty thousand rupees had been credited to her bank account.

Overwhelmed, Zehra called her sister and came to know that the extra fifteen thousand had been for her eldest son's cricket coaching that he willingly gave up when he came to know about his aunt's predicament. He said he could delay the coaching by a couple of months. Overcome with gratitude for her sixteen-year-old nephew she said if she had a son she would name him after her nephew.

'You don't name children after living relatives,' said Zebra's sister.

'Then we will call him Nasir the second like George the second?' said Zehra grinning.

'We aren't running a dynasty here. Ok?' Zehra's sister replied smiling at his sister's innocence.

Three weeks later Zehra packed her and her husband's clothes in a bag along with the boxes of bangles she had purchased for her sister-in-law and nieces. She had wanted to get something nicer for them- dresses for the girls, a wristwatch or a branded handbag for her sister-in-law, a formal shirt for her brother. But they were far beyond her means. One day when she had money, she promised herself, she will shower her siblings and their families with all the wonderful things in the world. For now, she hoped the bangles would please the girls and their mother. With her heart full of gratitude and anticipation in equal measures she boarded the early morning train from her small town and reached Lucknow before afternoon. Her brother called to tell her that he could receive them at the railway station as work had come up. No problem, they said and hired an auto-rickshaw.

Upon reaching their apartment on the third floor of a somewhat decrepit residential building they found the door locked. Zehra asked her husband to confirm if they were at the right door. They were, he replied. Tired and thirsty Zehra sat on one of the steps of the staircase, her heart already heavy. She wondered if her sister-in-law had changed her mind about hosting them and had gone away so that when they come and see the padlock on the door they simply return. Then she chided herself for the ridiculous idea. No one is doing that. No one perhaps but her sister-in-law. She was quite capable of pulling off a feat like this. When has she practiced restrain in humiliating and hurting people? Just then she heard a shuffle of feet on the staircase. Zehra got up and bent over the railing to take a look. There they were her sister-in-law holding several shopping bags and her two nieces. Her sister-in-law had gained enormous weight. Far from the slim woman she had been when Zehra saw her last she was now comfortably on the obese side. Huffing, puffing, and panting she reached the last landing and her eyes fell on Zehra.

'Are you already here!' she half exclaimed half questioned.

'Just ten minutes,' Zehra replied.

'Girls hurry up, your Phuphu is here,' she called out to her daughters but girls stuck with their friend on the second floor showed no inclination to hurry up. When her sister-in-law unlocked the door and the three of them silently entered the apartment Zehra realized that it was more spacious than she had imagined. Also, it wasn't a two-room set as her brother had said over the phone but a two-bedroom and a hall set.

Later that day, after Zehra's brother came back from work and the six of them had the evening tea together the sister-in-law casually informed Zehra that she would be leaving for her village tomorrow to attend her brother's engagement ceremony.

'I wouldn't have been going. The elder one has an online exam, but now that you are here I can go peacefully,' she said to Zehra.

'I have an appointment with the doctor tomorrow and most days I will be going to the hospital for tests and all,' Zehra replied, not just alarmed but almost panicking.

'I will be gone just for five days,' said her sister-in-law.

'We cannot delay starting the treatment by five days,' said Zehra's husband, politely.

'I haven't been home for two years! And all I am asking of you is five days. Can't you do this much?' sister-in-law said clearly displeased with Zehra and her husband's refusal.

'This particular procedure you know depends on the monthly cycle. I will get delayed by a month,' said Zehra's husband.

'So postpone it to next month. Stay here as long as you want,' she said.

'I cannot leave my work for two months' said Zehra's husband.

'You people only think of yourself, your treatment, your business,' said the sister law agitated 'you came here expecting full support from us and not the slightest compromise from your side.'

She got up and stomped away to her room. Zehra's brother who had been the silent party all this while followed his wife to the room. Soon a shouting match ensued between Zehra's brother and his wife. From their disadvantaged position, Zehra and her husband couldn't get most of the exchanges between the duo in the bedroom but the stray words that reached them were unreasonable, selfish, fool, insult, and sacrifice.

Zehra's throat began to go dry and her heartbeat quickened. Her nervousness must have shown on her face because the elder of her two nieces came too close to her ear whispered, 'phuphu,'

'Yes?' Zehra said startled.

'They fight like this all the time. Don't stress yourself,' she said.

The feud lasted about fifteen minutes followed by a sulking period that Zehra's niece estimated would last between three and four days. But because a third party was involved this time, she said, it wasn't possible to make an accurate prediction. Neither Zehra nor her husband knew how to negotiate through the awkward situation they found themselves in. Zehra was at once agitated and embarrassed.

'Your sister-in-law agreed to host you only so that she can go to the village,' Zehra's husband whispered to her after everyone had gone to bed hungry and angry. In the darkness, Zehra cried silently on her husband's shoulder. 'Wanting a child has started to seem like a crime,' she whispered. She spent the night nervous and distressed. And the same state of mind extended itself till the next morning. It was only after she walked into the doctor's nice-smelling air-conditioned chamber where the doctor greeted her with a warm and indulgent smile that she felt some weight lift from her heart. She had talked to this doctor before, on a video call. She had prescribed Zehra the medications and diet that would make her bodily fit for the procedure. She asked Zehra if she had followed the advice diligently. Of course, she had! What else had she done in the last three weeks except preparing herself for motherhood? Immensely pleased the doctor penned down a list of investigations. For the next two days, the couple underwent a series of tests, some of them inexplicably embarrassing for the conventional couple. Then the reports came- all good. Zehra and her husband should have been happy. But they weren't. In the interceding days between the investigations and the arrival of reports, the situation at home had turned from bad to worse. When Zehra and her husband returned from the fertility center with the reports they found Zehra's brother terribly distressed and the girls inconsolable. In their absence, Zehra's brother and his wife had had another bout of argument, post which her brother had gone to use the washroom. Half an hour later when the girls returned from their play at the neighbor's they discovered two extraordinary things in their house. One, their father - locked up in the bathroom, and second a note by their mother which said that she shall never return home. Her phone had since been switched off.

'You all are worrying unnecessarily. She is neither a child nor a fool. She will surely come back in a few hours,' Zehra said calmly.

'You can afford to remain unperturbed because it's not your family life that's at stake here,' said Zebra's brother sharply.

Zehra did not reply but her husband took out his phone and googled the cheapest furnished rooms available in the city. Then he made a few calls and asked Zehra to pack up. Zehra's brother did not ask her to stay.

Descending the stairs of her brother's building she came face to face with her sister-in-law. Their eyes met and at first, neither said a word. Then as they passed each other, their shoulders almost rubbing on the narrow staircase Zehra whispered 'Shame on you,'. Suddenly Zehra felt unhinged. Had her sister-in-law said a word in retaliation Zehra would have grasped her thick long braid and pushed her over the railing. Thankfully, didn't, even though her face had turned red with anger.

The accommodation Zehra's husband had finalized was the cheapest one available in the entire city. At four thousand per month, it was a six by eight wall enclosure with a tin roof, a wobbly door, and no window. Its total furnishing consisted of a four-by-six bed, two plastic chairs, and a groaning pedestal fan. There was no attached washroom, they would have to use the common one - incredibly filthy with a cracked seat a leaky tap.

'Looks like we have been sentenced for a crime,' said Zehra's husband.

'Being barren is a crime indeed! You of course got dragged for no fault of yours,' replied Zehra.

Neither of them slept that night. The walls radiated heat and the fan making unbearable noise. That wouldn't have come in the way of their tired bodies and sleepy heads. It was the mosquitoes that made sure that they don't get a wink of sleep.

The next day the doctor at the fertility clinic prescribed Zehra a medication for ten days. The medicine she explained would help them get lots of eggs. 'I hope you have not turned into a hen when you come back,' said Zehra's sister when Zehra told her about the medication. Zehra gave out a hearty laugh. This was the first time she had laughed in many days. In the next ten days, the earth rotated slower than usual. Days were hard to pass. Nights harder. Were they not financially constrained they would have gone around exploring the historical city - its world-famous maze, the bhool bhullaiya, the various parks, malls, and legendary markets of Hazrat Ganj and Aminabad But those things temptation the two of them had mentally insulated themselves from. Apart from trips to the fertility center they spent their time in long prayers and talking - to each other and on phone. Zehra's favorite task, however, was watching baby videos on youtube. That irritated her husband. Despite trying he could not emotionally invest himself in the baby affair the way Zehra had. Somehow the ten days passed and Zehra underwent another test to ensure if the eggs have developed as per the requirement or not. Had they not Zehra would be required to undergo a few more days of medication. Much to Zehra and the doctor's delight, the results were as desired. A sufficient number of eggs had become sufficiently mature for retrieval and in-vitro fertilization. The retrieval process was slightly painful, but with every successive step towards motherhood, Zehra found herself more capable of tolerating pain. The eggs were retrieved from her ovaries and transferred to a petri dish for fertilization. Magnified under a microscope they were shown to her on a big screen. One of these will become her baby. Partially at least. One of the thousands of sperm will fertilize the egg that will eventually become her baby. The marvelous sight filled her heart and her eyes swelled with tears. That night she said to her husband, 'Our baby is in the lab.'

'It's not our baby yet,' he said.

'It is,' she said with a finality that scared her husband.

The next three days Zehra spent oscillating between hopefulness and nervousness. Her husband's lack of enthusiasm had now started to infuriate her. On the second day, they got into a full-fledged fight that started with her accusing him of spreading negativity in the environment after he said that IVF procedures are not a hundred percent successful and they must hold their horses. The battle waged for more than fifteen hours and subsided only when they got a call from the fertility center. They were asked to report to the center for the transfer of the embryo. Upon reaching the fertility center Zehra's nervousness peaked and the doctor had to make her rest for an hour before her vitals resumed normalcy. Zehra had wanted all five of the embryos to be transferred to her uterus. The doctor smiled and explained to her why that is not done. At last, they put a catheter through her and successfully transferred two of the healthiest embryos to her uterus with the hope that at least one of them will grow into a baby. She was placed on a dose of progesterone and told to wait for two weeks.

Two weeks would have been a long time to pass in the heat radiating, mosquito-infested tin-covered enclosure. But fate had other plans for Zehra. While looking out for the Ola cab they had booked to go back to their accommodation, a speeding car hit Zehra's husband. The impact flung him in the air making him land on the other side of the road. Still sitting in the reception area of the fertility center Zehra noticed the commotion outside but decided not to get up and investigate. It was only when the tea sellers who recognized Zehra and her husband rushed to inform her that Zehra realized that the commotion had been about her own husband. She panicked and ran. Across the road lay her husband - bleeding, unconscious. The car driver had since fled. Zehra hailed an auto and asked the auto driver to take them to the nearest emergency room.

They took him in and asked Zehra to deposit five thousand rupees. In her husband's wallet, Zehra could find just four thousand. She had a couple of thousand rupees in her purse and after that, they were totally penny less. Zehra paid the required amount at the billing counter and called his husband's friend from his phone.

'How are you, my friend? All set to become a father! Haan?' came his friend's cheerful voice.

'This is Zehra, my husband has met with an accident,' Zehra said, unable to hold back her tears.

'An accident? Where and when? Hope he isn't hurt seriously,' said his friend.

'Just outside the fertility clinic. He is unconscious.,' Zehra said.

'I told him all this is useless. No one gets children like this. But he didn't listen to me. Now so much money has been wasted and on top of this, he has met with an accident. None of it would have happened had you not insisted on that silly idea,' he said agitatedly.

Zehra couldn't believe her ears. On any other day, she would have simply disconnected the call. But today, with her husband lying unconscious in an emergency room in an unfamiliar city, with no friend or relative by her side and her purse having run almost dry, she swallowed her pride and asked him if he could Gpay her ten thousand rupees.

'Doing,' he said and disconnected the call. Zehra felt grateful. Humiliated and grateful to be precise. A nurse came and informed her that her husband is conscious but has broken two bones in his right hand and eight stitches in his head. When Zehra saw him he had casts on both his hands and a bandage around his head. She held his hand in hers and both of them cried. Silently. So silently in fact that no one but just the two of them could hear each other cry.

Back under their tin roof, Zehra took to nursing him back to health. Her husband's old back pain had resurfaced with a vengeance. It was the old back pain rather than the fresh injuries of accident that was the matter of greatest concern for the two of them. His back problem had the potential of rendering him immobile. Neither of them could ignore the mammoth implication of his back pain even for a moment. So now, instead of her husband, it was Zehra who walked a kilometer to the cheap eatery and back, bringing food for the two of them. She helped him eat, change and wash and when the pain in his back didn't allow him to sleep, she stayed up with him all night. Zehra felt helpless and to a great extent responsible for her husband's condition. His friend's words played in her mind on loop until she herself began to believe that the entire exercise to have a baby was in fact a silly idea. After a week of physical and mental stress, her body began to give in. Her legs were continuously cramped and she often felt giddy. Every time she rose from the bed or the chair her head would spin. On the eighth day, she developed a mild fever accompanied by a dull headache. It would go under the influence of medicine and then return promptly when the effect of the medicine subsided.

Zehra and her husband now had no option but to return to their town where treatment was more affordable. Forgetting all about the baby, they boarded the train back the next day.