Between the Lines Chapter 8

Guno was our only child. I still vividly remember the rainy December day that she was born. It  was late in the evening when I started having my contractions, and then I realized she was coming.  My father's old car wouldn't start. There was no taxi available, and Shubho was frantic. I was in pain, and the rain just made it worse. Winter in Ranchi was mild, but by mid-December, temperatures started dropping, and usually the week of Christmas brought in heavy showers. The weather suddenly got colder, and we had to get our charcoal logs out for burning the fire. That day, of course, I was sweating in the chilly cold winter evening. Shubho was finally able to convince a taxi driver to come. The nursing home was a few kilometers from our home, but with potholed streets and heavy rain, the drive seemed like an unending nightmare. The poor driver did his best in getting me alive to the hospital. When I reached the hospital, I was immediately put on a stretcher. Guno was born a few hours later around midnight.

Guno was a small dark baby, but she had a huge appetite. Shubo often referred to her as the crow.  Yes, she must have been the size of an average crow, the first time I saw her. I spent the first year of her childhood in Ranchi, as my mother(Ma) was there to help me. Taking care of a new born is a lot of work, and now that I think of it, I had perhaps made the right decision. Ma would make warm cups of concoctions for me to drink. I loathed for spicy food, but she didn't allow me any. My diet for the first few months post-pregnancy was loads of milk, yogurt, rice, and fish. Desserts were my only savior, as those were the delicacies I could still have. I was skinny even during my pregnancy but after Guno's birth, I ate like a pig. I gained several kilos within a few months, thanks to my huge appetite. Motherhood demands kept me craving for food all the time. By the time Guno was three months old, she was no longer the crow. She was this beautiful angel with dark beautiful eyes that spoke a million words. I forget the exact age when she started talking, but she started early, that's all I can remember. Her hair was long and thick, and I combed it into two small ponytails. My father(Baba) had brought her a rocking horse which she loved. She rode it the whole day.

Ma's friends adored Guno. Some of them congratulated me on how pretty she was, and how she had got my eyes, and her father's sharp nose. Shubho had returned to the US a few weeks after her birth. I had decided to stay back at my parent's place till Guno was old enough to take the long flight to the US. Living apart was difficult. Shubho missed home prepared food and his beloved daughter. We spoke over the phone every single day. February was the first month I went out of our home with Guno. I had recovered from my aches and pains, and Guno was able to hold her head up by herself. We went for strolls near the riverside in the evenings, sometimes Ma or Baba tagging with me. And there was always Budhan, our house maid with us. Budhan was old and hunchbacked, but she had a heart of pure gold. She carried Guno in her back, sometimes in her front, like a kangaroo, in her cloth pouch. Guno, tucked her head outside the pouch and pointed at objects. A squirrel, having dinner beneath the mango tree, a bird munching on crumbs from our left over chips packets, the fish squirming on the bed of the riverside, a green grasshopper on the green leaf. She noticed everything. March in Ranchi was pleasant and had sunshine aplenty. We brought our mat and tea thermos with us and played marbles along the riverside. Me and Budhan and Guno played, while Maa and Baba watched the flowing river. Sometimes, Uncle Akinchen, and our next door Auntie, joined us. Budhan poured them tea in plastic cups from the thermos. Guno was the referee of our games. She often shouted, "oouu", or "tamtam", if she found one of us cheating. 

Guno was growing fast, and I sometimes repented on my decision to have Guno in my parent's home. Shubho was missing up on her first year, and he had no idea what he was missing. I couriered him a few pictures of her rolling over and crawling, but by the time Shubho received those snaps, Guno was already standing. Such was the state of affairs of our postal service in those days. By her eleventh month, Guno started walking. I was in the kitchen making 'luuchis' (deep fried Indian bread), when Budhan shouted, "Chotome, Guno is walking". I thought I heard, she had fallen, and I rushed to the living room. There she was in her diaper and two ponytails, parading in the veranda outside our living room. "Her first catwalk, Baba, Her first catwalk Ma", I shouted. Ma and Baba came rushing out. Guno was smiling, her mouth curling like the edges of a lotus leaf. Guno loved attention, if it was of the right kind. We clapped for our princess in symphony, as she walked again.

Everyone in our neighbourhood knew Guno. Some of them had even started referring to our house as Guno's house. Our next door auntie (Kakima), often asked her daughter to deliver to us her special lentil curry, or mutton curry. "Tumpi, where are you? Come and take this to Guno's house. Tell Boudi (my mother), I specially made it for Guno. It is not spicy, and she can now start trying such food", she yelled. Our house was kind of spherical, surrounded by veranda on all sides, barring a single wall that attached us to the house next door. The single wall between our two houses was like the border of two countries, except that unlike two neighboring countries, we shared everything. We shared food, affection, tears, laughter, family problems, festivals, oil, sugar, milk, you name it. But not all ladies in the neighborhood were like Kakima.

One day, Mrs. Chakrovorty, Ma's friend, who lived a block away from our house, came to visit us, to see Guno for the first time. Guno was eleven months then and already walking. "I have been super busy all these months, looking after my garden. But I have heard Ruma dear, that your daughter is quite beautiful. Bring her, let me give her my blessings", she said. I brought Guno in, from our rear garden, where she was playing with Budhan. Mrs. Chakrovorty examined my daughter for a few minutes, and then declared, "Good, she has your eyes, but her complexion is a bit on the darker side. She has got her father's genes perhaps. I hope she gets her father's genes when it comes to brains as well". I felt like punching her flat fair nose. I replied, "Thankfully she has her father's sharp nose. As to her skin tone, we are all brown. Being light brown or dark brown hardly matters". Mrs. Chakroborty did not like my comment, and she was in her high spirits that day. She continued, "Poor Shubho is dark, but thankfully he is smart and intelligent. You are a lucky girl. Living free of all responsibilities, with your husband, far away from your family". I picked Guno up and stomped out from the living room back into the garden. There was no point in arguing with a woman of her mindset. I heard her continuing to pinch Ma, "Ruma is quite outdated in her thinking still. How does she manage in America?". My mother replied, "Life I guess. We all learn from life eventually, don’t we?".