The Rawness Of Truth

The car slowed down as it neared the Feroz Shah road intersection. My heart beat a little faster. I hoped the traffic light would turn red and I could get a good look at the pregnant woman begging at the traffic signal. For the last few days she had aroused my curiosity.

She was a vibrant flash of coloured hues and specks of light as she flashed by my car window yesterday. I had watched her as I waited and saw her working her way down the vehicles fearlessly. She had a child clinging to her skirts and an infant slung across her back. Raising her palms, she was blessing the occupants who had given her coins by showering them with, gifts of fame, wealth, a hundred sons and tension free life. Those who waved her away rudely she bared her teeth and cursed by raising her palms and cracking it against her head. She yelled curses at the faceless helmet covered young guys on motorcycles, who teased and frightened her with their antics of trying to run her down as they howled and thundered past.

Yesterday I had kept turning my head for another glimpse of her till she disappeared from view as my hand slowly covered my own empty womb. My sad sigh was one of hope and despair. ‘Why me’, I had cried on the shoulders of my husband demanding to get an answer. Patiently he had listened to my ranting and raving and gently consoled me stating, ‘All good things come with waiting. Have patience, Darling,’’ wiping my tears.

I was on my way to another Doctor’s clinic. The endless round of visits and tests just to see an infant’s smile; hear the gurgle and babbling of a child in the cool quietness of my well ordered and money layered life. The emotional roller coaster was painful. The biological clock was ticking for me. The sense of expectation and anxiety, desperation and excitement was unbearable. I did not want to think. My instincts were at full throttle. I was clutching at straws in the wind to keep my dream alive to have a child of my own.

Seeing the woman was like fate was talking to me. Did she symbolise my future? Hope! Or was it mocking me only sharpening my sense of emptiness.

‘How much you plough a fallow ground nothing you sow will grow or bloom’’ the words of my rude neighbour echoed in my head. It was an exercise in futility my mind sometimes whispered. I did not want to heed the voice in my head.

This beggar woman was ready to do anything to keep her children alive! Defy death to beg, borrow or steal to fuel another day of living. She had too many mouths to feed and no money; I had too much money and no mouth to feed. The greed to live and the hunger of a future also drove her like any woman. It was immaterial whether she was dirt poor or rich.

The tests and consultations at hospitals and clinics were repetitive. Only the doctor’s changed. I could afford fancy places and fancy prices, but till now it had produced no results. I was driven to try out everything. Sometimes it was on hearsay or word of mouth recommendations from well meaning friends about holy men, miracle workers, practitioners of Ayurvedic or Unani medicines! Nothing was left to chance; everything was tried.

Hence to see the woman begging with a bloated belly looking as if she would deliver any moment, just then was frightening and inspiring for me. She made it look so easy. I hoped that the present doctor who was reputed to work miracles would be my saviour. I reposed my faith in god and more in miracles of science. My hopes were high and seeing the woman was like a good luck omen. She seems to be a promise of good things to come. Seeing this woman had given me a positive outlook and I pulled myself from the brink of depression in the last few days as I traversed the road everyday.

I was in a sense, on the crest of another wave of hope. I was to get my clinical results today. I had also come prepared to do all I can to help the woman with money and see if she could be persuaded to go to a hospital for delivery! There was also the fear that she would disappear and something would happen if I did not see her every day.

I prayed that she would be hanging around the traffic signal. I was not thinking of charity as a onetime measure. Goodwill was oozing out of me. I wanted to see if I could do something fruitful and wean her away from begging for a living.

I would meet her and tell her to be more careful and not to risk her life. I had some clothes for her and her children, fruits and money to give her. I decided I would talk to her and help her out.

I arrived early. There was not much traffic on the road. I went in search of her along the road side in the four directions radiating from the traffic island. Initially I felt let down and anxious as I did not trace her immediately.

The sounds of a child’s gurgle emerged from a plastic covered tent, behind the bushes in the vacant lot. My heart beats quickened as I came upon the woman all set to do her death defying dance of death for the day for her survival.

Close up, she looked like a picture of rustic Rajasthan has been relocated to a city. She looked like a gypsy and a proud one with her dark eyes and sharp features on her sun burnt face. Her orange veils shone with the mirrors studded on it. The heavily gathered patched-up, green patterned skirts swirled around her barren legs. Her frame seemed fragile and unable to bear the heaviness of the child in side her womb and the child strapped across her back. Another four or five year old was clinging to her, sucking his thump. I gave her all the stuff I had brought with me; my nervousness made me blabber in Hindi as she stopped and looked at me steadily. She was a still pond. I pleaded with her not to beg and gave her the cash I had. She nodded her head and with great show of dignity accepted what I gave.

Promising her to come tomorrow and take her to the hospital the next day I rushed for my own appointment with a light heart. I was feeling good and a sense of well being lifted up my spirits. She was my signal from god that all was going to be okay and my dream would come true as I got back into the car to go to the fertility clinic.

PART II

The next day I went in search of her. My clinical lab results were positive. I was delighted. I would be a mother soon and the belief that she was my good luck charm was reinforced. Laden with gifts I went to the same place to fulfil my promise to her that I would take her to a hospital.

I was in for a rude shock. She had disappeared into thin air. There was no sign of her nor any one to ask around. The ashes and burnt stones of a dead fire stared back at me. The place was silent and reeking of garbage and urine. My feeling of loss and depression was terrible. I felt defrauded and cheated of sharing a good fortune with a fellow being. The happiness of my great news was dimmed.

May be she had taken my advice and decided to go back to her people or must have delivered a baby somewhere and was not available just now, I consoled myself. I hoped she was well and in good hands.

I went back home, to be pampered and taken care of by the family in anticipation and expectation of the new member who would arrive to lighten up my life. It was like Diwali as all at home took part in my happiness. I had to go for medical check up every month. I had to be careful in what I ate and drank and remain happy and positive; all my little wishes were met by my loving husband and mother- in- law.

Every time I went out my eyes scanned the roads and intersections for that flash of colour expecting to meet the woman and her new infant. Even when I wished she should not beg I wanted to see her again for I came to see her as my good luck charm.

During the sixth month of my pregnancy, I was passing Feroz Shah road again, I saw her. Excited, I halted the car and got down slowly at the kerb and walked towards her. She was doing the same act again. She was still so very pregnant and full that I was stunned.

I could hear her clearly what she was whining, ‘Saab! Please help me! I need to go to the Doctor. I have no money. My water has broken. I will deliver just now’’.

Please Maaji!, I am in pain," her face contorted and pale, her kids hanging on to her.

Her acting was so realistic and moving. What a consummate actress she was! I could feel the pain and empathy, along with the sense of being cheated and being taken for a fool by this woman. It struck me that no woman could be Pregnant for so long a time.

This was an act and the traffic signal was her stage. She was smart to know that she would never meet the same people again and she could milk the moments afforded by the signal change to the maximum. The resentment flared inside me was too much for me to let the situation go. Determined I walked with a heavy tummy, towards her even as my husband tried to stall me and hold me back. The woman saw me coming and did her disappearing act. I had to give in to my persistent hubby who was saying I would be late for my check up.

I had to get to the bottom of it; righteous anger simmered inside. I went to the same place where she had set up camp six months ago. I would catch her and question her about this abominable act. As I ambled to her temporary shelter she was hard at work. It was another shock that awaited me. She was patting dough in a very realistic manner on the feet and hands of her son making it look like an open wound and colouring it with red and greenish yellow paste to look like suppurating bleeding lesions. Looking at it, made me feel like puking. Next to her a pillow stuffed with rags to mime her pregnant tummy was kept in readiness.

I was speechless and shocked at the audacious and brazen behaviour. Seeing me she silently continued with her work of disfiguring her son.

‘Why are you acting like this? You are cheating the public’, I cried out.

She got up slowly without self consciousness lifted up her skirts and tied the pillow around her waist and was pregnant again;

Looking satisfied at her handiwork she said slowly, ‘Maadamji, I am just earning my living. Nobody will give me a job. My husband has abandoned me. This is all I know. I have to feed my family and this acts brings me more than what I can get if I was to beg alone. Men leave me alone in my pregnant look otherwise they harass me.’’

I do this well and like all of you who does a job, this is mine’’.

She was no longer a cheat and a beggar to me. Six months back she had been my good luck charm and symbol sent from god to convey my hope. I realised that it was all in my mind and the randomness of raw living was always meaningful to anyone who choose to twist it and interpret it the way they want it.

All the accusations and anger I wanted to hurl and spill at her feet was reduced to nothing as I walked away quietly her words echoing in my head.

She lived to fuel another day of living and I lived desperately to fuel another desire to fuel a generation.