Phulwanti

The entire ghagra was blood soaked. The soft palish inner side of the thighs bloodstained. The mackintosh was soiled with fresh blood, as Phulwanti lay unconscious on the hospital stretcher in a private dingy clinic bleeding profusely. The nurses walked around aimlessly with white blue-bordered trays in their hands and Mirabai, the mother of Phulwanti sat huddled to the corner with her two-year-old grand daughter, Lajo on her lap. Her eyes dry and mouth pouted. She looked into the faces of every passer by and searched for an answer. Phulwanti lifted her right hand and dangled her left leg writhing in pain. She frothed from her mouth as the I. V. drip stopped pushing the liquid into her bloodstream. The pulse started falling rapidly and the doctor attending on her stood there scratching his chin. Then he waved at the mother and spoke something into her ears. The in-laws’ family had to be intimated. The doctor looked worried and Mirabai started to howl hitting her breasts. Slowly the pallid hand dropped motionless and the body gave a small jerk and then became still.

Nineteen years, mother of a daughter and three murdered female foetuses, Phulwanti expected a son this time. Jatinder wanted a son and his mother a grandson to carry forward their family name. Phulwanti was treated with various bittersweet herbs; injections from the village quacks and many deities were appeased with various offerings to bless her this time with a son.

“I can make out, Jitto, Phul is going to bear a boy this time from her walk. Look at her navel. The line has moved towards the left, Phul beti, come here and show.” The mother-in-law waved at her daughter-in-law and bared her small potbelly to show her son the tilted supra pubic line when she arrived.

Phulwanti’s face had brightened up at the prospects of making her in-laws happy. Two big deep black eyes and a small forehead, a small red mouth with a tattooed chin, Phulwanti looked charming and her supple body with sharp contours made her husband constantly hungry for her. She would carry his lunch on her head to the sugarcane fields where he worked and he could not resist himself from taking her to the fields and make her lie down on the aisle and make love to her passionately under the fiery heat of the summer sun. As he would enter her she bit her lower lip and grasped for breath and her bruised on the pebbled earth beneath. Then slowly he would pull up his pyjamas and move away to wash his hands clean and sit down to eat. Phul slowly got up and trudged near him and the slimy feeling in between her thighs would make her feel worthy of her husband.

The mother and daughter-in-law duo sat near the angithi in their veranda and made chapattis for dinner. The men would sit on the char payee like lords, as they would be served their meals on steel platters with raw onions and homemade pickles. The ladies felt proud as their men would polish off twenty chapattis each and then guzzle down half a litre of milk. ‘They are men and then work in the fields. They have to eat to their stomach otherwise what would happen to their maleness. Then how can they please their wives sexually and father their sons!’ the mother-in-law would blurt out if the daughter­ in-law showed slightest tiredness on her face.

Phul’s headcloth slipped as Lajo pulled it from the behind. Her tiny hands touched Phul’s waist and she pulled her two-year-old daughter and kissed her on the forehead.

“Lajo, what will you do when your brother comes home to play with you?” Dreamily Phul would ask the dumbfounded daughter taking her onto her lap. Phul’s world limited itself within the desire to having a son and could not see beyond. Her mother had to go through the same ordeal of numerous abortions and nothing was different with her mother-in-law also. Killing the foetuses after the twenty weeks never sounded horrifying to them because the wish to have sons was great in their hearts and to carry the family names of the Lals, Chouhans, Singhs, Yadavs and others forward was even greater.

Phul was taken to the local clinic for her check-ups. The stench emanating from the clinic with “PCPNDT Act (Pre-Conception and Pre-Natal Diagnostic Techniques­ Regulation and Prevention of Misuse) Sex determination is a crime and it is not practiced here” board hanging on the entrance, made Phulwanti puky every time she went there. The doctor would assure and reassure the mother-in-law about the male foetus in Phulwanti’s womb as he scrolled the scanner on the belly carrying out the ultrasound scan every time she went for her checks.

The delighted mother-in-law beamed with pride and escorted Phul to the cycle rickshaw carefully so that she did not slip and the whole exercise go waste. Extra milk, extra dry fruits, extra cares were showered on her, as Jitto did not spare her a single day of abstinence. Phul felt tired and could not refuse her husband because she had learnt not to question, not to ask and knew just to lie down and accept. Her deep eyes closed sorrowfully when Jitto forced himself inside her and she wriggled in pain.

“Phul, Maninder’s mother was telling that we should take you to Gurgaon for a final check-up. This doctor in our village is a quack. Sometimes he is not able to detect correctly. Last time Maninder’s wife had conceived a son and he said it was a girl and they aborted. I don’t want to take any chance with you. I know very well the pain you have undergone for the last three abortions. What can we do! Life is like this! We have to have a son in the family.” The mother-in-law told Phulwanti about her plan to take her to Gurgaon for a specialist’s opinion.

The men sat on the char payee snorting at the hookah and talking about their annual crops and unbeatable heat of the season. The sunny afternoon baked the entire land and the loo blew hot. The dry torn leaves swayed with the hot breeze. The mango groves stood still at a distance. The ladies rested on the cool durries for their afternoon siesta inside the rooms as the sky looked dark at the southern corner. The dry inside of her mouth and nostrils made Phul get up for some water to drink. The earthen pitcher wrapped in white muslin was at the corner of the room and she went near it with a steel tumbler in her hand. She licked her dry palate with her tongue and then drank some water. Her abdomen felt soft and podgy. The breasts hurt. The shirt that she wore on her ghagra stretched and tightened at the breasts. Her walk became tired and slow. The head cloth slipped from her head as she held her daughter’s hands tight. The parakeet in the cage teased Lajo unnecessarily. The hot air burnt the skin. Two big black eyes gazed at the southern sky filled with black wet clouds and her mind grappled with an unknown fear.

The auto rickshaw in which Phul was taken to Gurgaon went phat phat phat on the dusty road. The high-rise buildings, the glittering malls, the fiberglass panes reflected the sun and Phul wondered. The dirt, grime and moisture made Lajo’s skin splotchy. Mango flies infested the wounds and Phul waved off every time they came. Looking at her daughter’s small round face she felt an agonizing pain. Tears welled into her large eyes. ‘What if she dies! If Lajo also cannot bear a son she would have to go through the same ordeal of innumerable abortions. Poor she!’ Thinking of the pain she closed her eyes and tears rolled down her face.

“Phul beti, why are you crying? No, bachcha, this time I’m sure Punditji cannot go wrong. And then, the herbs given by him never go waste. Be strong and brave. Before Jitto was born three abortions for me. Now see for yourself. Am I not alive? Am I not healthy and hearty before you? Stop shedding those fake tears and get ready for the check up.” Shrieked the ma-in-law.

The doctor in a dirty white apron with a sly smile on his lips looked at Phulwanti from top to the bottom. He rested his eyes on her breasts for sometime and then looked at her small protruding belly. He waved and showed the chair asking her to sit down. He then took the papers from her and asked the mother-in-law to wait outside.

“Dactarsaab, this is the fifth time. You see that this is a boy this time. This shameless woman does not know what we underwent for her three abortions one after the other.” Averred the ma-in-law and started to go out of the dingy cabin with Lajo towing behind her.

The nurse stood next to the stretcher bed with a tray and a torch in her hand and a mischievous smile planted on her lips. The doctor put on a dirty pair of gloves and looked at the nurse. The nurse signalled to Phul to lie down. She then pulled Phul’s ghagra up for the doctor to examine her internally. She resisted at first and then loosened a bit. The white belly showed. The doctor felt the bulge and then slowly put his fingers inside her and Phul shrieked with pain.

“No, no. What’s the matter? This is not the first time for you! Let me see what have you inside you.” The doctor went ahead with his examination and his left hand went haywire on her breasts for a fraction of a second. Phul stiffened at this. The light from the torch fell on Phul’ s thighs as she tried to sit up. The doctor now looked at the nurse and exchanged some meaningful glances and then went towards the wash while removing the gloves.

“We have to do one ultrasound, mataji, then only I can surely tell you about your grandson.” Told the doctor to the anxious mother-in-law of Phulwanti.

Phulwanti stood slightly bent and her eyes rested on her toenails as she tried to cover her head and face with the head cloth. The doctor asked them to come the next day for ultrasound with full bladder. Phulwanti held her daughter’s hand tight and trudged along the passageway as the onlookers exchanged glances with each other. The pregnant ladies were escorted, some by the husbands or their families or by their mothers. The fear stricken dark eyes, tattooed foreheads and chins, the wan faces of the would be mothers told of the unspoken sorrows, the same sorrow which almost every mother had and shared and had learnt to painfully live with it.

“Mataji, it’s a girl, not a boy. Who told you? These doctors of the villages don’t know anything. Earning money only on guesses. See, it’s a girl. The abortion will be very very risky. I can’t do it here. You have to come to our head office.” Muttered the doctor.

“No. No. It can’t be. Have you seen properly? The Pundit can never go wrong! Phul, what have you done? From where have you blackened your face? Jitto, Jitto, listen to this one. Your wife has a daughter in her womb. What to do now? Tell me. I have a barren bahu who cannot give me a grandson.” The mother-in-law went on howling hitting her forehead and leaving Phul behind in the doctor’s cabin. Jitender took Lajo by hands and hurriedly followed his mother to calm her down.

Phulwanti sat up on the stretcher and then slowly clambered down. The world ended for her. She looked at the doctor who had just pronounced the final verdict for her child and now busied himself with another woman on the stretcher. The nurse glanced at Phul and handed over the head cloth to her as she slowly walked towards the auto rickshaw where the husband waited for her.

The dark descended heavily in Phulwanti’s village. The parakeet in the cage fluttered its wings. Beyond the mango a boat moon rose in the sky and some stars twinkled. The in-law’s family of Phulwanti had just cremated her and come . The mother-in-law felt relieved now. Lajo sat in a huddle at her father’s feet and her small round face glistened with tears. She knew for sure that her mother had gone not to come again. The men sat on the char payee snorting at the hookah in turn and conversed in a low tone and Jitto looked blankly at his mother who handed over a steel platter to him with homemade pickle and chapattis.