"Sitha neram poruthuko ma, daaktarayya... serial pakkararama, vandhuduvaru", said the midwife, but Valliamma didnt feel like she could take it any longer, she just had to get it over with, but she knew at the same time that the doctor would be rough if he was disturbed in the middle of his serial, so she held on for life, her life and her baby's, held on to the slightly rusty side of the governmendaaspathri cot and closed her eyes...
....The news that she was pregnant wasn't taken very well by Irumbu kadai Jagadeesu, her husband, because he wasn't in a receptive mood at that time. They were going through a financial rough spot, and he was brooding over the insulting tone that was used on him when he had bought the half bottle of maanitru and paid for it with his last change. "Nanri katta nayingala...kada aramchalendhu taily bichnesu kuduthugunu varen..", but the next morning, he hugged her tightly and called her his rasathi.
He was a good man after all. In the later months of her pregnancy, she hadn't been able to get up in the morning and cook for him, but he managed with attukaal soup and the occassional barotta-keema, even though they both knew it gave him loose motion every two days. He'd buy her the ripest of oranges, two every day, and set then next to her before he left. Her maamiyar, on the other hand, wasn't very pleasant, but she'd heard worse stories from her friends about theirs'. She was very vocal about wanting a boy baby, and left unsaid what'd happen otherwise. And how happy she was, when she learnt that it was indeed a boy! Her husband had to pay the scandaaktaru an atrocious sum of money to get him to reveal the sex of the baby, ignoring the big notice that they'd put up that it wasn't done in that hospital.
After the great happy revelation, her maamiyar insisted on staying with them, doing the house work, and caring for her. Everyday, she'd tell stories about Janarthanan's son Kasi, who'd done a B.A and recently got a job at a government office, about Kasturi's nephew Kadirvel, who'd done a B.Sc and was now teaching at the local government school, and had got marriage offers from wealthy families. She told her daughters were a waste of everything, because you had to spend so much on them to bring them up and everything, and then spend even more to marry them off. Sons, on the other hand(She said), were investments, were an insurance, for the future. But Valliamma secretly craved a daughter. Sons rarely took care of their parents in their old ages, all they'd do is make their future secure, and marry somebody their parents didnt approve off and live their own lives. Daughters would take care of their parents till they died. And oh, the sight of her in a little pattu davani-pavadai and little bangles around her little wrists....
Her thoughts were rudely interrupted by the arrival of the doctor, who took one look between her legs and told her she could deliver only by an operation. And everything went by in a blur. She was lifted and rather roughly put on a stretcher and moved to the operation theatre, where she was again lifted and placed on a table that felt cold. A new face, a perusu, asked her what her name was in a soothing voice and told her to breath through the cup that he put on her face. She did, and as she did, she felt she was losing control, and tried to hold on, and tried to lift her arms, but it was too heavy, and she was too tired, and then she was asleep.
And she was being slapped. Who had the audacity to? Even her father had never slapped her, only her husband, and she hadn't talked to him for weeks afterward until he begged forgiveness. She wanted to retaliate, to shout, but she couldnt breathe, a tube was in her mouth, and then it was being pulled out, and the slapper, the perpetrator, was asking her to put out her tongue. It all came back to her, and she meekly complied. And a screaming bundle was put beside her, and she was being pushed back to the ward, she asked the nurse "pillai yepdi? sevappa irukkana?"
And the nurse said "Unakku potta pilla ma" and she couldnt process the information, how?, after the doctor had said, and had been paid and everything, but as she approached the ward, she could see her maamiyar's brooding face, and her husband's happy one, and she felt secretly happy. She'd had her say, at last. After all, It was her baby. Her rasathi. She couldnt care less about the consequences or the finances. They'd adjust.
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