The slaughter of the unborn spring

Prabha is 7 months pregnant. Her husband, Ramu is a worker in some factory she is not aware of. They live at the outskirts of Delhi – UP border. The monthly income varies from Rs 350 – 500. It is enough to give them their daily bread. The news of Prabha’s pregnancy was a source of joy as well as dismay for Ramu. He was happy that his son would carry on his legacy...but would he be able to feed him and give him a sustainable life. It was a question that according to Prabha could wait. She was happy...may be happy was a very diminutive to what she experienced....she was going to be a mother. After 2 months there is going to be another life blossoming on her door. A life that she would nurture with her flesh and blood. She finished her daily chore and sat waiting for her husband to return. She had her routine check-up at the nearby medical camp tomorrow. They provided calcium and vitamin tablets free of cost to the pregnant mothers. Though her husband does not approve the camp, she nevertheless wanted to give all medical – aid to her child. She felt a kick in her overlarge belly. Prabha smiled, her little angel was eager to see the world. But tonight she was tensed. She was vexed by her conversation with her husband in the morning. Prabha had put forth the possibility of giving birth to a daughter. But this was something Ramu couldn’t accept. For him it was a disgrace to have a daughter at home. She was afraid. That’s when she heard a knock and her husband was home. She served him dinner and the day was over. 2 months passed in Prabha’s house in a wink...she was all ready to welcome her little one....she was excited, and impatient to hold it in her arms....to hear him/her call her amma....she surely was impetuous. Finally, after the long wait of 9 months, the day arrived. In the middle of the night, Prabha felt the discomfort which gradually kept on increasing. Ramu ran and called the anganwaadi maid. For him it was an anxious wait outside the door. He prayed for his wife and son. Soon his wait was over and the maid congratulated him “Mubarak ho!!!! Apke ghar Lakshmi aayi hai!!!” (Congratulations, you have been gifted with a daughter). The grin on Ramu’s face faded. He hadn’t expected this. He went inside and saw Prabha with his daughter. Prabha was contented. She couldn’t have asked for anything more. She was on cloud nine to see her little one suckling her breast. She wanted to protect her from all evil. She had even decided her name – Rani. She then realised Ramu had still not seen his daughter. She called for him. Ramu’s response was unexpected. He blamed Prabha for the birth of his daughter. He refused even to hold the child. He practically disowned Rani. Prabha cried and tried to reason out with him but according to him her Rani was a burden. He left the room, turning a deaf ear to Prabha’s cries. Rani cried, maybe even she was moved by the tears of her mother or was expressing her own displeasure towards her father’s indifference. Rani was soon asleep into her angelic world. Prabha too was tired from the long night and cried herself to sleep. Ramu was nowhere to be seen. In the morning, Prabha was gripped by fear. Her Rani was not besides her. Who had taken away her child?? She screamed for her daughter.

Ramu came with Rani in his arms. Prabha was relieved to see her daughter in his arms. He had finally accepted her. How could a father not love his own daughter?? But it was Prabha’s misconception. Ramu could never come to the terms of having a daughter. He laid in front of her the dead body Rani. He had thrown her on a big stone and Rani had died of brain injury. Prabha couldn’t scream, she couldn’t cry....she was silent....her husband had killed her daughter...her Rani was dead....she couldn’t protect her child....she had failed as a mother....her Rani had been slaughtered. But she couldn’t complain. She couldn’t drag her husband to court and ask for justice. Not only because she lived in a male dominated society but she couldn’t revive her Rani....her born yet unborn spring was dead.

P.S.This story was fiction. But a problem faced at large by our country. Every day so many daughters are brutally murdered in the name of society. Root of female foeticide is the mindset of our Indian males. So many women share the pain of Prabha. But neither can they help their daughters nor themselves. I wanted to share my feelings on this topic and I hope I did justice to it.