Mrs Das, our chirpy college lecturer was happy to be pregnant after 5 years of marriage. Her face was radiant with the anticipation of motherhood. It seemed as if God had pasted a smile on her round cherry red chloasma filled face. Daily, her doting husband used to drop her on his scooter, which he used to ride real slow. She used to amble with a lordotic gait in our corridor, greeting each and every student. We were glad to see her so contended.
Soon, she went on her maternity leave and we got busy with our semester exams. A few months later, she resumed work with a small wrapped bundle of joy in her arms, her face was very sad and tired, hair unkempt and her sari, crumpled. She was seen muttering to herself all the time. Everyone was shocked to see her sorry state, she hardly took lectures and was seen walking frantically along the stairs and corridor clutching her baby tightly. She was in a delirious state. Any attempt to confront her would lead to hysterical shrieking and crying spells. We were perplexed.
The department chose to keep mum over this issue and allow to let things normalise on their own.
'Please, don't hurt my baby, Please! were the only words uttered by her in despair. She often used to cajole her baby to feed with a dirty grimy unwashed milk bottle and often used to wail with her failed attempts. Her plight was very poignant and palpable in our college atmosphere.
She was probably, in a state of post partum depression.
One day, in a fatigued state of mind and body, she just sat down on the stairs and slept off.
A wrapped mid sized Barbie Doll slept peacefully in her tired arms.
The bottle with the curdled milk rolled down the stairs slowly.
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