That Summer Evening

It was a hot summer evening in 1999. The Jeep halted at a traffic signal. Pushpa and Vijay sat tensed at the back, Baba in the front seat next to the driver. The tension grew with each passing moment; the traffic signal took an eternity to turn green. The Jeep travelled kilometres that evening, navigating each lane looking for her.

“We will find her, Pushpa,” Baba assured. “Have faith.”

“Yes, Baba,” Pushpa responded, weeping inconsolably from the backseat. She could sense Vijay’s anger and frustration. She could imagine him saying,” How could you, Pushpa? How stupid of you. Couldn't you look after her? Why are you so careless?.” But he remained silent and squeezed her hand. “We are in it together - remember?”

Cramped in the backseat with a visibly disturbed Vijay, Pushpa nodded.

“It, indeed, is my fault.” she blamed herself.

“Hope we will find her.” she prayed silently, pushing away the dreadful thought of the dangerous situation that her toddler was in, wandering on the streets of a notoriously big city like Mumbai, alone - lost.

Tina was still an infant of 21 days when Pushpa resumed her duties in the government office. Since her job was essential to sustain the household’s expenses, she had to go to work, leaving little Tina at home. “How will we look after her?” Vijay asked worriedly. “We are in it together,” she replied. Pushpa opted for a continuous night shift. Vijay looked after Tina during the night and Pushpa during the day. Vijay was an exceptional dad who took over Tina’s parenting very seriously. She remembered how Vijay used to get up every night at 2:00 am when Tina got up hungry without complaining. Poor Vijay had to get up, light the stove, and warm milk on it for her. He used to cradle her to sleep after feeding her. Pushpa and Vijay distributed their roles and timing to avoid the extra cost of a nanny or spending exorbitant money at the daycare centre. But, later, with little savings and promotion, they could afford a nanny for Tina. Pushpa smiled at the thought of their lovely small family living in a cramped yet comfortable house, self-sufficient and happy.

The jeep was still on the road, with an estimated hour to reach the Pydhoni police station. They had received an urgent call from the sub-inspector there, who had asked them to come over and check a girl matching Tina’s description found on a busy street that evening.

And then, for the thousandth time, Pushpa went over today evening’s episode once again in her mind. Pushpa tended to the household work and was busy in the kitchen, which needed severe cleaning. “Mummy.. “ wailed bored Tina as she tugged Pushpa’s saree and wouldn't let her do anything. Irritated by her constant need for attention, Pushpa dumped her on Nanny’s lap and asked her to take Tina for a stroll. She quickly slipped into a yellow dress and her white sock and banished them from the house for some time to clean the kitchen peacefully. “Bye bye mamma.” Pushpa didn't even bother to wave back. Pushpa was glad she could get rid of Tina for some time. Now she could get back to her cleaning undisturbed.

Half past six, the doorbell rang- once, twice, thrice. Upset with impatience, Pushpa opened the door. 

In front of her, she stood Tina’s nanny, “Mam, I lost Tina.” “You lost what?” unbelievingly, Pushpa asked her to repeat.

“Mam Tina baby was with me until we reached the temple. Then I stopped to watch the bangle shop, and she was gone.” the terrified nanny told the entire incident.

“What do you mean by she was gone? Where is she? Did you leave her at the shop?” the reality was slowly sinking.

“Mam, Tina baby, was holding my hand, but then I was so engrossed in looking at the bangles that I didn't notice her slipping my hand and going away. “

“No, No.. she must be still somewhere nearby. Did you look properly?”

“Yes, Mam. I searched for her everywhere near the temple.” the worried nanny spoke.

“Is she missing?” Pushpa couldn't believe her question

“Yes, mam. I think so.” whispered the guilty nanny.

The whole world came crashing down as Pushpa realized the situation's intensity. Her Tina was missing. She was missing in the crowded, busy Mumbai streets. All alone. A toddler, a tiny girl of not more than three years of age - was missing and right now in the heart of a very notorious city- all alone - lost. Pushpa grabbed her slippers, took the keys, and dashed onto the streets onto the stairs, still dressed in her untidy cleaning dress. She was a messy sight to see, but she didn't care. Her Tina was lost. She ran to the local grocery shop. Her hands trembled as she dialled Vijay's number first and then her father’s number. “Vijay, come home soon. Tina is missing.” she sobbed. “Baba, our Tina is lost. People last noticed her near the temple. Please come home soon, Baba. We need your help.” she pleaded. Within an hour, Vijay and Baba were on the streets looking for Tina.

“I should not lose hope. I should trust and should not lose hope.” Pushpa promised herself. 

“Hope is the lighthouse; Hope is the candle in a stormy night; Hope is the warm soup on a winter night; Hope is the medicine on a hospital bed; Hope is the shelter for the homeless mind. Hope is the miracle we have received as the greatest gift from the Almighty. Hope is the fuel that ignites our life; Hope is the only thing that keeps us afloat and alive! Hope is the air we breathe and the food we eat.” Nani used to say. “Even if everything is lost, Hope never leaves our side. It accompanies us like a true friend - Right till the end of our journey!’

“Yes, Nani. I am hopeful! - Pushpa’s energy returned as she thought about Nani’s teachings and her trust in hopeful thinking. 

It was almost midnight now. Five hours since Tina was missing. They almost reached the police station. Tina remembered the sub-inspector speaking on the phone an hour ago - “One girl in a yellow dress and white socks - found near the railway station. Come and check. We think it’s your daughter.” In those days, they didn’t have mobile phones like now and had to rely on personal messages passed on by the locale shopkeepers who had public telephones installed for public calls.

The Jeep halted in the police station’s parking lot, and Baba, Vijay, and Pushpa jumped out and rushed towards the station gates in anticipation of finding their lost daughter there.

Barely had they reached the station's main hall when Pushpa noticed her. Sitting on the corner stool near the window, Tina held a pack of Parle G biscuits. A kind policeman was pursuing her to eat it. It looked like she hadn’t touched a single biscuit so far. “Tina,” screamed Pushpa, tears of joy rolling down her cheeks. Pushpa’s screaming caught Vijay’s attention too, and he turned around to see his sweet daughter on the stool. Both ran towards her, oblivious to the police station protocols, and hugged her.

Tina couldn’t speak; she was still shocked. Little Tina could only say, “Da da Daddy.”

My daughter is safely back home and sleeping peacefully. The wonders of hope and how it never leaves us are evident. Pushpa cuddled her daughter, “I am sorry, darling. Mamma is sorry for all that you went through today. By God’s grace, you are back here with us. Thank you, Thank you, oh! Lord.” Pushpa kissed the sleeping Tina’s forehead and lay beside her with gratitude in her heart. Some days teach us lessons of a lifetime. She looked at the other side of the bed, and he whispered - “We are in it together - remember?”