By Monica Bakre

Dayawati was barely out of her four-hour labour when she heard one plaintive wail of a new born which was followed about 3 minutes later by a stronger lustier one.

“Two beautiful boys!” she just about heard an excited, whispered, exclamation (more of a hiss), as she tiredly turned her face towards the baby cot from where the wailing of babies seemed to be coming. The cot had a bare, rexine mattress on which she could vaguely perceive two tiny human beings, her new-born twins!

“Here, here…you need to rest…” she heard a female voice and then felt an abrupt, strong prick on the back of her left palm. All of a sudden, her head seemed to swirl and then there enveloped her, a nothingness, which took with it her senses.

Outside, Satnam, her husband, had been waiting to hear from the doctor, or at least the nurses attending to his wife in labour. Dayawati was actually due to deliver a fortnight later, having already been cautioned that she was carrying twins.

Most of Satnam and Dayawati’s days after having got the news had been steeped in worry over how they would manage the expenses of raising two children at the same time. “Don’t you worry…I can sit down and knit sweaters which we can sell. I can also sew as you know. I can take orders for petticoats, blouses, salwar kameezs and the like. We will manage…” would assure Dayawati, as Satnam would wonder as to how his little highway dhaba would generate income for the soon to be expanded family.

“I think I will take a loan and ferry people in a Matador. My staff is well trained. They will take care of the dhaba. What do you think?”

“No, no…let’s not take a loan. We already have one to repay.” would remind Dayawati, referring to the huge loan that Satnam had taken a year back for his only sister’s wedding. His parents had been poor farmers, and so, he had used his saved earnings, and then drawn a loan to marry off his younger sister.

Soon after that, Dayawati had been found pregnant and been duly informed of her twin pregnancy!
“But how will you manage with 2 infants and all that extra work? Shall I call my parents to move in and help us?” would offer Satnam.

“No, we must manage our own affairs. Getting your parents to help us out would be selfish. Let them lead their lives in old age in peace. In any special cases, we can call on them for help. These are our children and this is our home. We are responsible for running it successfully”, would reply Dayawati, confidently.

When the labour-related discomfort began one afternoon, Dayawati quietly picked up the bag that she had already prepared, walked slowly out of their small house behind the dhaba, locked it, and proceeded calmly to inform her husband. A taxi was summoned, Satnam left hurried instructions to his staff, and then left with his wife for the hospital.

Once there, the staff was kind and assured them that if the labour would turn out difficult, they would operate and deliver the babies. There was no operation as it turned out.

“Good news! Healthy babies…one boy and one girl…” smiled a nurse, as she found Satnam seated, worried, on a bench outside the labour room.

“I heard someone say they are 2 boys…” whispered Dayawati to Satnam when he finally got to meet her after two hours. He had just seen the 2 babies in the nursery and was happy that they were healthy and had had their first feed of honey water.

“What? Don’t be silly! You must have imagined that. They maybe someone else’s. Ours are a girl and a boy. It may be your confusion in labour. Now rest”, said Satnam, caressing his wife’s forehead.

In four days’ time, the couple was back home with their twins. The girl was named ‘Gudiya’ and the boy, ‘Raja’. Though it was a lot of work, Satnam and Dayawati enjoyed the babies immensely.

“Look at their tiny fingers and toes! How tiny! Oh, they must be so weak…” would say Dayawati .

“Oh, no, not weak at all…look how strongly they grab my fingers!” would boast Satnam, tickling the tiny toes of Gudiya and Raja.

The twins were six months old, when Dayawati noticed that while Gudiya had begun holding her neck up when put on her stomach, Raja looked a trifle slow. She also noticed that while the baby girl would cry angrily when hungry, the baby boy would lie placid and would have to be urged to feed.

“Boys are known to be slow in the beginning, Dayawati…he will catch up…don’t worry…” would assure a confident Satnam.

The problem became more pronounced when Gudiya sat up at nine months and Raja was not even able to hold his neck up and would loll in bed all hours! This was when the couple rushed in alarm to a pediatrician who examined the 2 babies thoroughly.

“Retardation of growth…a serious condition…this is what your baby boy unfortunately has…reasons could be many and any…” informed the doctor grimly, himself a bit uncomfortable breaking the news.

For Satnam and Dayawati, the world around them came crashing down…

“How did this happen? They had told us that the babies were normal when they were born…” recalled Dayawati.
“Maybe this condition does not show up at birth…who knows…”

“Anyway, God has sent him to us. We will look after him as well as we can…” said a brave Dayawati, fighting back and gulping her tears. One other aspect that started becoming clear to the couple was that Gudiya looked like neither the two of them nor her twin!

“Deep golden hair? Dark blue eyes? She is beautiful, but we don’t have hair or eyes like hers…” said Dayawati to her husband one evening.

“Maybe someone in the older generations? Possible,na?” , Satnam remembered something of the genetics that he had studied in class 9.

“No, my gut feeling is that there was no one in our family with such hair and eyes…” reiterated Dayawati, her strong female instinct coming to the fore now.

Anyway, both of them got busy in raising the children, working very hard to keep themselves afloat with mounting expenses.

It was finally when the twins had their first birthday that a remark from a well-meaning male cousin invited to the simple feast that Satnam and Dayawati had hosted in their yard, that both of them were stirred out of their reverie.
“How come this degree of mental retardation? Why does Gudiya not look like either of you? Are you sure the hospital people were honest?” said he, angrily.

“Means? Means? What? Oh my God!” was all that Satnam could blurt out.

Over the next month, the cousin gathered information on DNA testing and enlightened the couple.

“It’s a long journey to Mumbai. You will have to take the children too. I know it is not easy, but we will have to do it…I have arranged everything…let us go…” urged he.

The DNA paternity and maternity test results brought the sky down on Satnam and Dayawati, who just sat with their heads in their palms, absolutely dumb struck!

Both the twins were not theirs at all!

Dayawati gazed at Gudiya as she pranced about the yard playing with her simple, wooden toys. Her eyes brimmed over as she looked at her disabled ‘son’ staring vacantly at the sky, lying on the charpaai in the yard, beside her.
Satnam had no words to respond.

The couple continued to raise the children to the best of their ability.

“It was God’s will. He knew that these children would be safe with us. So, he put them in our laps…” would say Dayawati, with a heart as open and glorious as the bright summer sky. They worked harder, bestowing upon the children all of the love that they possibly could. Never once did they discuss the horrifying deceit that they had experienced in their harmless, innocent lives.

Raja, in time, was detected with a heart ailment as well, continued withering away, and left this world, unclaimed by his real parents at age eleven. Gudiya went to school, with everyone marveling over her eye-catching golden hair and blue eyes.

“My great grandmother had them…” she had been taught to explain.

Satnam and Dayawati kept the secret and so did the cousin, all their lives.

Only, sometimes…one odd time…in her half sleep…Dayawati would have a lucid dream…2 healthy twin sons…her own sons…her and Satnam’s flesh and blood…

“Where in the world were they? How were they doing? Who were they with? Were they alright?” she would freeze with these thoughts…

The mother’s pining heart would weep…her breath getting shallow, choked tears forming a thick cloud, moving in upward waves in her generous heart…for her own twin sons…

Then again, she would quickly tell herself….“God’s gift to me…Gudiya is mine…I will take care of her…”

About the Author: Monica Bakre is a qualified counselor/psychologist, with interest in reading, writing, cooking, music, and pets. She describes herself as an observant, absorbing, thinking, speculating, and sensitive individual.