34) Overcoming pain

It is as typical as they come and the story happened in mid 80s when the world was saner.

We lived in East Marredpally in Secunderabad, a posh colony in the twin cities and the Tamils made it an island for themselves in the Telugu land. The schools were near and so was the Monda market and it’s as convenient as can get.

Our immediate neighbour was Mr. Subramanian and his wife. He was an engineer in BHEL, originally hailing from Thanjavur and already clocked a decade of working here. His wife Shymala in mid 30s was a regular at the cultural and social gatherings; ladies visited one another during festivals and who can forget the high point of the calendar? Even the memories of those one month long lecture series preceding Ramanavami celebrations at Key’s High school give goose pimples today (remember we are still in mid 80s).

The couple were of cheerful disposition and socially held in high esteem. Theirs was a picture perfect family save for one crushing sorrow; there were childless and in those days a big topic of noisy concern.

Society was a lot more intrusive then and friends never tired suggesting: visiting temples, fasting, herbal treatment, or approaching Swamijis. Without a baby a household was incomplete and even if you are not particular, society would give you a depression.

The Subramanians tried every remedy in the book and with age fast catching up on them their sorrow seemed long and cruel. They even did angapradashanam (rolling on the floor around the sanctum after a drench) and went through many a ritual.

Shymala was 38 when she became pregnant and God, the couple were in seventh heaven. The lords have been kind after all. She delivered a male boy in the seventh month and it was hopelessly premature. Money was spent like water to keep the kid alive but it passed away in the incubator less than a month after birth.

The entire neighbourhood felt their pain but, what solace can we offer? The man and the woman were heartbroken and it would have been better off without this than go through this charade of pregnancy and the script end in such unbearable agony. They were at the edge of the tether and even his colleagues at work excused his long absence.

Shyamala was not educated but she was blessed with a native commonsense. Once, it was confirmed that she would never conceive again she was amenable to adoption. All she wanted was a baby crawling in the house and in the mid 80s, trust me, adoptions weren’t so easy then.

Her gynecologist here was a big help. Dr. Mohan (those days most of the gynecs were males) personally ensured that they got in contact with an authorized organization where all the documents were in the clear.

The Subramanyams went to Missionaries of charity, Hyderabad chapter and made a plea for adoption and the sisters felt more inclined to listen given the doctor’s strong pitch. This indeed was a genuine case and a family desperate to raise a baby in a loving atmosphere.

They didn’t do any selection and instead entrusted it to the sister’s discretion. On a June day in 1987 – I remember that day for it was the first day of the monsoons – they brought home a two year old girl. They called her Nandini and things got a cheerful as the kid kept them busy with her needs. Life was on the flow once again.

We shifted out of Hyderabad in 1989 for good; visiting only last year in 2006 after 17 years. I visited that street in Marredpally just to see how time had rolled there. Meeting anyone after 20 years is more like a mystery end of a novel and here TIME writes the script.

The Subramanians were still there and when I enquired about Nandini, they were pleased as punch: Sathya, she is doing her second year MBBS from Osmania University. That the best news of the trip.

There is really a good and benign force up there. My mind flashed back all the struggles and how blissfully content they are now. Proof of a benevolent God up there!!!
As for me, there is nothing more heart warming than to see old friends happy.