“Who is the real mother?” said Sariga half to herself and
half to others.
With heaps of hopes, only Sariga entered into her matrimonial
life. As she expected the new domestic atmosphere hugged her snuggly. She was welcomed by her spouse’s family of
mother-in-law, father-in-law and a sister-in-law. Days filled with delight acquired
a usual style of illuminating that small shelter containing a bedroom, a
sitting-dining and a cooking room. It was a neat shelter, nowhere squalid. Her
better half, Vijay, a daily-wage worker, was a better half to her in true
sense. After the dawns of a couple of years, the daybreak of a blessed day
gifted the family with the birth of a baby girl. The tiny little one was named
Navaneetha that grew as the apple of the eye for everyone in that domicile.
In the meantime her sister-in-law, Mahima attained puberty
and slowly her youthfulness became her partner. Beauty didn’t show any
stinginess to adorn her, instead shaped all her organs with attractive features.
As it is natural of human nature, boys were ready to travel with her in her
fiancé ship. But she did know the fiscal limitations of her family, though her
clan was very particular to furnish the possible luxury in her arrays and
ornamenting items. With a great deal of effort only they could launch that
brilliant girl in the college for further studies after the twelfth grade. Somehow a youth, Kashyap, the postman of her
village happened to see her when one day the former plunged a wedding card
into her compound. He began to silently follow her wherever and whenever do-able.
He was not a native of that village. At
last on his expression for courtship, she reciprocated in negation and narrated
about her present scanty pecuniary position to him, “We are a happy family earning
a small income for our bread. We cannot give dowry and all.”
But somehow even
without her go-ahead his manners penetrated into her mind and occupied a seat
there. Gradually dreams started visiting her in her night slumber and her
daytime invited reveries. So the pastures, tree-shaded nearby garden, etc
became their meeting areas during their leisure time.
It was a bolt from
the blue for the family, when they came to know about the affair of Mahima. Her
kinfolk thought Mahima, a simple-humble girl could never enter into a love's event. They tried tooth and nail to reroute her from that event because they
knew that a central government employee won’t turn back from asking for a huge
amount as dowry. Their trial went off track and nothing achieved success.
“ Amma, I met a girl very pretty. She will pass her B.Com
course soon. If you see her you will like her,” presented the matter Kashyap
very tactfully.
“ So what should I do?” Amma, as if she didn’t understand his
intention.
“Um...I ..like to..marry her..,” fumbled he.
“No problem, but we should get a good dowry. You have a
sister, we need a good amount for her marriage,” Amma. That is the system rife
among the unprivileged group. ‘Take dowry and make dowry with that’ went on there.
These days, ‘give no dowry, take no dowry’ strategy flies in
the air everywhere, but the girl’s parents fate is to hoard huge amount for the
wedding expenditure. Ornaments, bridal fineries and even dowries are a nightmare
for the bride’s parents. And that is the reason why so many female feticides
and even infanticides. Mostly the underprivileged become unprivileged in weddings or goes for incompatible spouse-selection. After imploring his mother
much, Kashyap could make his mother be in accord with him. One clause that he
had to abide by her suggestion which was at least a small dowry had to be
obtained.
Conversation between the families took place, but the girl’s
side had no way to find the dowry amount. Bank loans would show them the way to
debts and mortgaging the house would end up in confiscation. And eventually
Mahima became ready to sacrifice her love for want of money. Vijay pondered
over the matter to find a way without being falling into big liabilities.
Vijay got a straw to sip his water of trial that he entered into a contract
with a family stating that his wife, Sariga had to concur with that. He
presented the matter before her very affectionately in a soft voice, “O, my
sweet love, ‘I’ll tell you something. Don’t deny first. Think, and then reply.”
“What is that? Why too much formality?” responded she.
“You know Shyam and Latha are devoid of any children. They
want a woman for surrogacy. They will pay a handsome amount. If we get that we
can pay the dowry for Mahima,” Vijay in a fast mod.
She denied first, adding a law crying sound. Nevertheless, her
better half’s description of
their plight and need changed her mind to an
affirmative nod. Though a slight reluctance and woe peeped into her mind, she
agreed. She underwent all the procedures
of carrying a zygote of Shyam and Latha in her womb. Shyam and Latha were very
pleased and became very particular to provide all sorts of care and comfort to
Sariga, whose womb was the bed of their invaluable asset.
Aha! The much coveted
day loomed. A sweet tiny baby boy proclaimed his arrival with his snivelling sound.
The neonatal little one’s cry in the hospital room, destined for Sariga, filled
the air with large degree delight. It lit high-watt light bulbs on visages, in
particular on that of Shyam and Latha.
As was the condition laid down in writing, Sariga had to
part with the infant on the seventh day after leaving the hospital. Shyam and
Latha got ready very early and drove to Vijay’s house. Finding no boundary to
their gleefulness, Shyam hummed a tune which Latha repeated in the car.
Then all of a sudden a black cloud appeared on Sariga’s face
that burst out like thunder, “O, No, I won’t give my child. I cannot part with
him.”
People turned speechless. Vijay was in utter confusion. No
consoling words, no promise of gifts and no counselling from others could
change her mind.
The matter was drawn to the court. Sariga’s family could not
afford to appoint an attorney to argue for her side. Moreover, they had money seldom to repay
the lump sum drawn against surrogacy as it had already gone to Kashyap’s custody as
dowry.
So Sariga came forward to argue her case. Nervous was she, but
pleaded before the court, “I carried the little one in my womb, I nurtured him,
I fed him till now,” said she, “Sir, tell me who is the real mother, me or
Latha? The dear one is my flesh, my blood, my food and my care. I cannot be
separated from him. He is the sibling of my daughter, Neeharika. He will grow
with her.”
“But you have to go with the contract,” the court.
“What contract, sir? Is there any contract bigger than
mother and child relationship? They gave me a seed and I sowed it my land. So I
should get the harvest. We will somehow pay back the debt. I will work for even
a small income. Little by little I will pay back,” deep sobs and weeps
accompanied her argument.
The court could not counter her argument, as she bagged the sympathy of the court as well as all around and hence gave a verdict in the
form of advice, “Both the families wait for some time and then arrive at an
amicable settlement.”
Though she came home triumphant, she could read the
disapproval of her act on every face including her own parents, in her spouse’s
abode. Nobody uttered a word.
Nightfall was a solace for Sariga, “Have I done the right
thing? How will we pay back the amount? O, how will I give my darling to them?” her
mind was confused’ “ But with everybody’s anger and unhappiness, how can I survive
here?”
Despite their disappointment, Shyam and Latha were much tolerant, so
they did not go with a bickering attitude. Silently they headed home.
The night was scary for her. Her head meddled with introspection and the thought of ' Part with or not'.By morning she arrived at a decision, though highly
heart-breaking, “I will give this dear darling to them. It is their zygote, so
their infant only. Latha is his real mother.”
A soothing breeze of a sigh of relief blew in the vicinity.
She was not after all a woman with ethics nothing.
