My first Child: ‘Not yet another’ parenting post

Yes, I am going to talk about my baby here, but it’s not going to be a ‘yet another’ parenting post. It’s not about Parth, it’s not about Sarika, yet it’s about my baby… the baby I fostered years ago, on the first sprout of maternal instinct inside me. Let’s have a walk along my memory lane….
Those were the days of fresh exuberance, viscous vitality and zeal that reached the zenith….but all these lay unexplored, unused to rot there in me… I had no career, no line of sight to put these bubbling energies to use. So just to keep frustration at bay, I decided to work as a technical executive (or in a raw term a call centre executive). Night shifts, pesky callers from UK and US cribbing about Indian inefficiency, team leaders expecting excessively more out of a sleep-devoid team and an unfulfilled yearn for a few hours with family… all this did not help much to keep off the much-dreaded frustration.
On one such morning, I was trying to get some sleep (trying, because I couldn’t actually shut my ears and mind from the incessant racket of a middle-class colony…kids playing cricket on the staircases and lobbies making the ball bang on the door again and again, even after repeated warnings, women chatting or quarrelling (it was difficult to make out due to their natural callous tone and volume)).
Amid this entire ruckus, I heard an incessant whimpering. I couldn’t focus on that initially as sleep was starting to take me over, but suddenly as my mind registered what exactly the sound was, I woke up. Tracing the origin I went downstairs into the parking area. Oh my…. ! An exceptionally weak and frail puppy tied to its single leg below one of the cars. It was partly hanging. It seemed it had no energy left to try for freedom any further. I carefully freed it off the bondage and it curled into my palms as if pleading not to put it down again. Overwhelmed with an unknown desire to hold it tightly close, I resolved to make it feel better. But, the 4th Floor aunty declared, “Ye to mar jaega. Bahut kamzor hai. Shayad abhi kuch ghanto pehle paida hua hai (It’s too frail to live any longer. It seems to be just few hours old)”. To my utter agony, the other aunties agreed.
I tried to feed the little, timid baby milk with cotton dipped in it and squeezed into its mouth (am I the first one to try this weird puppy-feeding technique?) When it didn’t seem to work, I ran to the nearest (2.5km away) chemist store and bought a feeding-bottle. Still, it didn’t seem to be able to suck.
My insides cried – “I won’t let you die.”
To add to my rising fear of losing my newly adopted baby, my mother and my mami stood against my decision to keep it. These were the times when I used to think, would I be so unreasonably brutal when I grow up? Is it a mandate for adults to be unreasonable? I said, “mom, how on earth you manage to hold that stony heart of yours. You should have said,’ I’ll slap you if you leave this poor creature to die.’ I mean, look at it once. Do you have the heart to leave it to suffer till it dies?”
Needless to say, my mom melted like rich chocolate in my mouth.
And guess what, even my baby seems to celebrate its new home. This time when I tried, it sucked the milk through the feeding bottle and nearly finished it! I wish I had a video of that precious moment… it is as close to my heart as the moment I first saw my biological baby after a C-section operation.
I named it Rocky. Today Rocky is not with me. But he’s hale and hearty and I keep visiting him. He is a father of six lovely pups. He is no longer scared and timid but is bold and magnificent. Although a desi dog, he looks well built and fluffy just like a Labrador. Miss you Rocky.

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One thought on “My first Child: ‘Not yet another’ parenting post

  1. Ankit Saxena says:

    Nicely written Priyadarshini ji:)

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