She was in labour pain. The doctor called me in to inform me about the C-Section delivery because the baby had placenta rolled around his neck, an obstruction for normal delivery.
I was upset about the pain my wife was in post her delivery, especially when my elder son was a ‘normal delivery’ case. I held my newly born son responsible for the misadventures in the womb, for my wife’s suffering.
I was so upset with him that I refused to pick him up. I refused to even look at him. My anger was evident to my wife, but I wouldn’t let any reasoning by my wife change my stand — rejection of the newly born. For sometime, I even rationalised that it’s my love for my wife which’s making me hate the little one who gave her the trouble beyond the necessary.
My indifference to the younger one continued, while she slowly recovered. After four months of delivery, for the first time, we went out to have dinner, on a Sunday evening, far from our house. At the hotel, my wife laid down the newly born next to me on the sofa. She sat down opposite us and went through the menu.
All of this would have taken about five minutes. After having carefully looked at the menu card, she lifted her head, put down the menu on the table, looked up to me to find out what I would like to have.
As I was replying, her expression changed suddenly, eyes went wide. “Where is Divu?” She was too loud for the ambience. I looked beside me and he wasn’t there. No one came to the table, we hadn’t left the seat. Where could a four-month-old baby go? I was looking all around puzzled.
My wife bent down to look below the table covers. And there he was, lying on the floor with his face on the floor. It appeared that he had moved a little more to the edge of the sofa and had fallen down. We didn’t hear the thud of his falling, probably because of the background music.
He was badly hurt so much that the sound of his cry was stuck in his throat for a long time. I lifted him up and blood gushed out of his mouth. I was shocked. I went numb for a good two seconds. My wife shrieked out loud and that brought me back to my senses.
I ran with the baby to the restroom, washed his face clean and couldn’t find any cut on his face. As I opened the door to go out, a fresh stream of blood came down his mouth, flowing to his neck. My wife shrieked again, “Nooo!” She pulled at my shirt so hard I could hear it tear out a bit somewhere. I had never seen her lose control like that. A thought crossed my mind that I can’t afford to lose my cool now, it would really turn bad if I don’t stay alert. I just have to stay normal and that’s what I did.
Staying unemotional and practical, with no time to lose, I rushed out to find a doctor. It was Bangalore’s (Bengaluru) Sunday evening, dark and drizzling with most of the places closed, including the clinics. I went around asking for a doctor, until I found one open and I told the doctor about the emergency. He, not being a paediatric, was reluctant but did examine my son upon insistence.
He laid him on the examination table, ran some quick physical checks and told us that his lip was torn from the inside, probably because his upper jaw had hit the table’s stand. That’s why the blood was oozing out. He couldn’t give any medicines to a 4 month old baby.
So he told me to rush to the emergency ward of some hospital, in case the child gets fever or fits during the next 12 hours. Meanwhile, I was to put a pack of ice on his lips to stop the blood flow.
To arrange for the ice cubes, I went around knocking on every single house until a kind soul gave me some ice cubes and some tissue paper to keep it on my son’s lip. His kindness is something that warms my heart everytime I think of the day. I took some ice, rolled it in the tissue paper, put it on my son’s lips and we started the heaviest and the longest walked back to the car, with my son in my arms and my wife holding the ice on his lips.
I noticed two things by the time we reached the car:
My son’s cry had come down considerably in just a few minutes after putting the ice pack.
I was a worried father, concerned, unsure, shaken, hoping no further complications were developed, and I was holding him in my arms tight and carefully. I wasn’t angry at him anymore.
Divu had stopped crying by the time we settled down in the car, with my wife next to me. I gave my son to her to hold, so that I could drive. Divu started crying again as I started the drive.
I couldn’t bear his crying. I stopped by the side and took him in my arms to comfort him. Almost immediately, his crying stopped. Relieved, I gave him back to my wife and started to drive. No sooner was he in her lap than he started crying again.
I took him back in my lap. Again his crying stopped, lying in my lap he was looking at me with his big eyes. Intense and yet purely soothing deep gaze it was. I looked at those big eyes which were full of purity and love. They were drawing my being into them. It was a marvel I was experiencing and my whole world seemed to be in those eyes. I was being drawn into that pure love and innocence.
He was quiet, we were no longer two different people. We were just one pure love and care. A four month old baby which couldn’t speak a word was changing me, my mind and my feelings with the language of love and innocence. Purity and divinity were oozing in those moments. Physically, I was driving. Mentally and emotionally, I was being driven, being transformed. And so was he.
His lips had swollen to cover his chin but he was looking at me without a blink. It was almost like the injury didn’t bother him anymore. My 4-month-old was a tough guy. His mother held the ice, wrapped in tissues papers, without any care for the coldness of the ice on her hands, drawing away only to replace the melting ice cubes, for almost an hour. She too was different in those moments.
Just to be sure that Divu wanted to be in my arms, I asked my wife to take him away, and no sooner did she pull him towards her, those twisted expression on his face began to appear, eyes began shrinking to cry. I knew for sure that he wanted to be with me. I immediately asked her to leave him back in my arms. He was quiet and that deep loving gaze began to engulf me again.
I decided to keep him in my lap, holding him in my left arm, and driving with just one hand steering, changing gear and everything else until we could reach home almost 12 kilometres away from the doctor’s clinic. By the time we reached home, it was almost 11:00 and everybody else was asleep.
I laid him on the bed and he started to cry again. He and I could feel the change in the warmth. I put my hand on his chest and looked up at him with a multitude of emotions flooding my heart. His lips has swollen up further covering the complete lower part of his face.
It was so painfully unbearable to watch him like this. But his eyes were wide open looking at me smiling and that innocent loving gaze entered into the depth of my heart. We Connected. No words when necessary, my hand on his chest was the only assurance he needed to know that I cared and love him more today stupid anger I had on him melted away into oblivion. He slept just like another day. I was wide awake not moving my hand away from him, soaked and immersed in his demand of love and care a father can give. Child is the father of a man, I experienced it in those moments.
Divu (We named him Divyaansh and fondly call him Divu) is 15 now and he has been the light of my eyes, my smile and it’s been such a joy, actually a blessing, to bring him up. He surprises me with his thoughts and deeds so much, I don’t think a day goes by when I haven’t thanked god for sending him in my life and imagine me being angry with him! Whenever I think of that day, all I have is a sense of gratitude.
Gratitude to the tragedy that happened, the hurt he had. It brought out my true feelings for him. I now try to look at every unwanted event of my life as one that shows me the truth. Sooner or later, I see the truth.
Gratitude to stupidity of being angry at him only to realise I loved him more. Now when I get angry, I quickly calm down (I would Like to think so! 😉 ). Knowing that anger clouds the truth.
Gratitude to the unknown face who gave me ice cubes and tissues to comfort my son. I now try my bit with whatever I can help someone with, be it protecting a pigeon from dying or giving a lift to someone walking by.
Gratitude that nothing major happened. The scare of him getting fits was enough for me to realise that his presence mattered more than his mischief. I have moist eyes as I pen this down. and yet this is something I am still trying to imbibe, to value the people more than what they did right or wrong at some point in time.
Gratitude to god for showing me the strength of love and care, for speaking to me in a language that needs no sound, no words, just two hearts that speak to each other the ultimate truth. I try to listen to the unspoken most of the time when I am meeting people and that helps me know the good people and keep in touch with them!
God, make me a human again in the next life, allow me to make errors and then keep on giving me the experience of you being by my side. And by the way, this zenitude arose when i was thinking, what should I be grateful about during the gratitude exercise on black lotus app. If you too had some tragic blessings like mine, share them to kindle our hearts with some tears of joy and gratitude! With Swamiji’s grace, flow, fly…
Universe operates at its own pace; it has its own language. My little kid changed me without speaking a word! खामोश…!
Nothing, absolutely nothing, is without a purpose… कोई शक…!
Life gives the exam first and teaching comes later. Enjoy, no one ever fails in the school of life even if it appears so! मोगौबो खुश हुआ।