IYER Part 3 (If Fortunes Favours the Bold Death Favours only Timid)

It turned out to be one of the darkest days in my parents' lives, as both physically and mentally, I bore no resemblance to them.

I emerged weak, with a darker complexion, and what some may consider unattractive. My father was taken aback upon seeing me, harboring suspicions about my mother having had a relationship with another man. However, my mother was not the type of woman to engage in such behavior.

However, some rumors circulated that a few jealous relatives had poisoned my mother in an attempt to prevent her from giving birth to a child. Unfortunately, I was born despite their malicious intentions. At times, I wished I had never been born, as my life seemed cursed from the start. I yearned to have remained in my mother's womb, shielded from the hardships I was about to endure. I still harbor a desire to discover the identities of those who ruined my life. Why, sir? Why are people so envious? What harm did my parents or I ever do to them?

As my father grew suspicious, he began to doubt my mother's faithfulness and descended into alcoholism. His behavior escalated to the point of physically abusing my mother. Despite her attempts to convince him of her innocence, he remained unconvinced. When I turned two years old, my parents separated. Although my father initially desired a divorce, family members from both sides persuaded him to pursue a separate life instead.

At the tender age of four, I was diagnosed with lung cancer. My mother sought consultations from the most renowned doctors in India and England. Sadly, all of them conveyed the grim news that my life expectancy would be only two years. Although I understood that I was sick, I didn't grasp the severity of my condition. I clung tightly to my mother as she carried me from one doctor to another, silently wishing to myself, "Mother, I don't want to leave you. I will never, ever leave you."

Since my mother's undivided attention was focused on me, my sister didn't receive adequate care, and she was diagnosed with typhoid. In the 1950s, typhoid was a grave illness, and only a few managed to survive it. Concerned for my sister's well-being, my mother contemplated leaving me under the care of a relative. However, none of them were willing to accept me, as they considered me a curse. Eventually, my mother decided to leave me at an orphanage, which happened to be established by my grandfather.

Story to be continued