A Cleft Thought

"Mum, you know we don't believe in that”, were the consistent words Yatish uttered to his mother day in and day out. But this time was different, she had never been so relentless before. "Beta, if Anita and you want a healthy boy-", "or girl" interrupted Yatish, "yes yes, or girl, then please listen to me this once." And he heard the stubborn click of the phone as his mother left him to his thoughts. That old woman and her superstitions, thought Yatish and he slid into bed with a satisfying grin.

Screams of "Yatish Yatish" woke him up. It was Anita, could this be it. He looked at his watch, it was 6 in the morning. "Yatish, i think i'm in labour we need to get to a hospital", yelled Anita in discomfort. Driving in haste along Rabindranath Tagore road, along the banks of the River Ganga, he took a peek at the sky through his windshield and saw the moon slowly passing over the sun as a python slowly devours it's victim, slowly yet surely. He immediately remembered his mother words last night. Brushing away those thoughts he looked at his wife and held her hand reassuringly as she was breathing heavily bearing the pangs of labour pains in her womb.

Pacing in the corridor outside the maternity ward of the V S Mehta hospital, Yatish was starting to get anxious. "Why is it taking so long", he murmured to himself. Across the hallway he saw the man in white emerge from behind the white curtains. As Yatish rushed past him he heard the doctor congratulate him, "congratulations on a baby boy Mr. Saxena". Without stopping he burst into the ward and could see his son nestled in the arms of the nurse, who looked up at him, smiled and slowly entrusted his son into his outstretched arms. He looked down at his son and he suddenly felt sick in his stomach, like the wind was knocked out of him. Tears started rolling down his cheeks, he turned toward his wife who was sleeping calmly. Turning back to his son who was snuggled in his arms, his eyes shut tight, his nostrils moving ever so slightly as he took short gasps of breathe, and then as Yatish's eyes fell on the fissure on his son's upper lip, he had to close his eyes and the tears flowed again.

“July 22 2029, it’s been 20 years since that inauspicious day”, thought Yatish as he sat in his living room, in the dark, alone. Not able to live with the guilt that he carried all these years, Anita left him. 20 years of living as an outcast, Ketu grew into a bitter, alienated man. The guilt in Yatish had grown into a dull numbness, allowing his mind to be taken over by mindless superstitions, the kind that his mother always warned him about. Intoxicated, Yatish indulged in the thought that, what if he had done the corrective surgery the doctor advised him to do, would that have saved his family 20 years of pain and agony?

Synopsis: Our lives are laden with misfortunes and sometimes it is easier to blame these afflictions on superstitions. But ironically it is these superstitions that do not allow us to overcome these inflictions, to rise above misfortunes, to build our own destinies.
Just as in Yatish’s case, the tragedy of his son’s impairment led him to believe in superstitions, which then led him to ignore the possibility of corrective surgery.
In this age of rationality let us not get impeded by false beliefs and unfounded fears. But let rationality lead the way to true progress and eventually our destiny.