VALENTINE'S DAY.

I got married 9 years back to a lovely dentist named Mansi. We have a 8 year old daughter and a 10 month old son. My parents stay with me.

Our punishing schedules make us play hide and seek through out the day. Mansi is as busy as me. She handles the clinic along with raising our naughty kids and managing a big house. She is frequently seen running around the house. I patiently wait for her attention.

We hardly get time for each other. Our responsibilities ensure that fully to the hilt.

Where has all the love gone?

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. We will be the odd ones out in a restaurant or a cinema where the young cooing couples will be whispering sweet nothings into their wax laden ears. We do not want our tender innocent kids to see such public display of affection. Besides, the young teenagers may feel restricted and embarrassed in the presence of senior company. We may stay home tomorrow. It is okay with us. Our time has gone.

I recollect the sacrifices we made to reach a the highest level in our society.

Mansi patiently used to wait in the car amidst interrupted meals and movies, while I remained busy with patients. She never grumbled. However late I used to reach home, a hot meal was served by her loving hands. She patiently and lovingly sits while I have my late unearthly hour meals.

I remember her kind care giving and service to my dad and granny when they were sick. She ensured maximum comfort for them without any hint of disapproval or a wrinkle on her forehead. She used to sit besides them through out the night and still would be fresh as a daisy the next day.

I remember her rock solid support for me in times of my crisis. She always infuses confidence and courage in me. She allays my unjustified fears. She sooths my troubled soul.

I love her each and every day I breathe.

We do not need to demonstrate our love to the public on any specific calendar marked day.

We love each other. We are aware of this fact. It may be not visible to the eye but We have passed that stage. Our souls are inter twined in each other.

Every day is a Valentine's day for us.

A DARK NIGHT.

She lay in the bed shivering and frightened of her husband. It was her first night. The aged semi bald portly husband with a cigarette in his thick lips came to her bed and let out a hyena like laugh.
Her parents had promised her that she would never be hurt. She was cursing them at this moment. They had sold her to an old rich man labelling this gory transaction as marriage. A hungry vulture like priest conducted the ceremony.
A lot of money exchanged hands that day. In this shameful country, a girl could be bought for marriage for a paltry sum.
Poverty and Depravity was ever prevalent in the streets all over the country.
He emptied the entire bottle of whisky in his belly and began the ritual. His heavy body lay on top of her, heaving.
Nobody paid any attention to her stifled cries. She felt sick and nauseous after the episode.
She was after all a school girl.
She cried remembering her care free school days.
A poor innocent lamb was slaughtered on this fateful dark night.

THE THIRD GENDER.

It was an uncertain time of the early 80s.

Me and My younger brother were small kids then. My parents were working and from 4pm to 6pm, We used to be all alone in our house. That was a much dreaded time interval of our entire childhood. We used to triple lock from inside and play with each other. We never used to open the door to strangers.

One day, the door bell rang and my brother rushed to the door to open it. As soon as the door opened, a hairy hand darted in, demanding money in a rough voice. I rushed and slammed the door on the hairy hand. I could see 4 sari clad ladies with coarse manly features, paan stained teeth clapping their hands in unison and gyrating to the dhol beats. The eunuch gang had struck our abode. They would not budge till money was offered to them. Every clap fastened our heartbeats. We just held each other and shivered till they left. Those days, security was lax. A solitary watchman who would doze off in the afternoons was our sole unreliable protector.

A few years later, I was travelling with my mom to a place in an auto. As soon as I got down, A hairy hand gripped my arm and started asking for money. "Ae, Chiknya! Ek rupiya de naa" I was shocked and immediately jumped in fright. My mom shooed him/her away with a folding umbrella.

When I was in college, I was walking with my friend Rohit who had a cycle with him. A pair of eunuchs cropped up from no where and we just left the cycle and ran for our lives. Till date, I do not know the whereabouts about the cycle and never dared to ask my friend about the same.

Such unpleasant experiences with the third gender in my life made me highly prejudiced and biased towards them. I hated them for scaring me in my childhood. The mere sight of them would send me into a rage.

After starting my medical practice, I encountered a eunuch patient named Soumya. He was a 45 year old, born as a male trapped in a female's body. He had undergone voluntary castration at the tender age of 20 years. He had willingly become a eunuch. He was not a true natural one. He could sing and dance well hence was a much respected member in the eunuch community who lived in the decrepit chawls outside the town. They used to collect money from wedding parties and homes of auspicious events like child birth. I treated him like a normal patient, he paid my bill and got discharged thanking me profusely. His clout was tremendous and even brought me some patients from his ostracised community.

I treated all of them with compassion and kindness.

I wondered about my change in perception towards them. I hated them all these years and now was treating them with sympathy.

They were already suffering a lot in view of the prejudiced vision of the uptight society.

Jobs were out of question for them. Some had resorted to prostitution out of frustration and helplessness.

Perversions were and are rampantly prevalent in our society.

They were the butt of ridicule wherever they went.

They deserved compassion from fellow human beings, I realised that while treating them.

God had been unjust and unkind to them.

We need not be.

PAWS.

He came for a short time of a couple of hours but won our hearts.

'Paws' was a pug who was brought by Mansi to our house as his owner Anita, a beautician had to go the airport to receive a guest. She casually asked Mansi whether Paws could be looked after for a couple of hours and Mansi was all excited along with Chaitra. They both went to the parlour and got Paws in the car sitting proudly near the window. The kids playing in the compound were excited to see the ad-popular species in the car and ran behind the car.

We were eagerly waiting for the four legged cutie pie to enter our house. Biscuits and Water were personally arranged by Chaitra. As soon as he entered our house, happiness entered our house. He literally started running all over the place, licking everyone with fervour as if he knew us.

Mansi and Chaitra are die hard animal lovers. They boldly carried him in their arms and played with him. My mother locked herself in the balcony as she is phobic of dogs. My dad who is not afraid of tigers also, calmly sat on tha sofa. Paws, an intelligent doggie immediately recognised the boss of the house and calmly sat at his feet. All his dancing and running about just stopped abruptly. Maybe, he was aware of dad's strict nature. This gesture made my dad happy. We again started playing hide and seek with Paws.

Prithvy, who was sleeping woke up with the ruckus and came crawling out of his room. On seeing him, Paws leaped towards him and licked him vigorously. Prithvy just trembled and burst out wailing loudly. He was shivering in fear for a pretty long time. He had an immemorable unpleasant first canine encounter. The maid had to put him back to sleep. He slept, crying in sobs, carefully watching his door.

Paws ate half a biscuit and sipped some water, much to Chaitra's delight. She clapped in joy. She asked us whether we could buy a pug for her. The answer was in negative making her sad.

Soon, Anita came to take Paws back. While going, he proudly pissed on the silk carpet marking it as his territory for probable future visits.

Chaitra bade good bye to Paws with moist eyes.

She skipped her dinner that day in protest. She wanted us to buy a doggie for her, badly.

I explained her that Prithvy was small and maybe he would get hurt if a doggie pounced or clawed or bit him. I told her as soon as Prithvy would grow up, we would buy a pug for her. She ate her dinner after that.

I am ambivalent about pets at this moment of time. I hardly spend time with my kids in view of my busy schedule. I do not want any obstruction in this activity. Whatever little time I get, I want to spend it with my kids.

Till then, a pet doggie would have to wait.

In the future, my kids had all grown up and were repaying me the same coin back by being busy through out the day in their academic life. Thay hardly had any time for themselves, leave aside their parents.

Maybe, We would think about buying a pet doggie then.

KHAAKRAS.

PRESENT.

The old lady would knock like clock work at our siesta hours. Be it any season, She would be there every week at our door with a smiling face exposing her metallic teeth. She would sell us a variety of 'khaakras' wrapped neatly in plastic covers. They were crisp as her resolve. We never refused her. She was an aged poor lady trying to make her ends meet. It was the least we could do to salvage her misery. She had so far consistently refused financial help. She was a morally upright lady but time had bent her, overburdened her with such a tedious job.

She would simply smile even if a door was answered with insults. She was accustomed to this harsh world. If her own people had never supported her, what could be expected from this world. During rains she used to wear a big raincoat with an over sized umbrella to protect her 'khaakras'. She did not even mind getting drenched for that.

The hard khaakras were reminding us of her hard life. We acknowledged it and generously used to buy stuff from her, often gladdening her.

PAST.

It was my Hematology posting in my final year of MD. One patient near the window was happily chatting with the gathered relatives oblivious of her illness and suffering. She was a 50 yr old lady who was in the ward for the last 3 months.

She had Thrombophilia which caused spontaneous clotting in her blood vessels often leading to catastrophic events. So far, she had lost her one arm and half of her leg due to gangrene. She was the darling patient of our ward in view of her happy go lucky nature. Her illness never deterred her from joking , chatting and often laughing with us. She had accepted her fate. Her loving husband always used to be by her side. His face was a personification of worries, anxieties and burnout. Yet, whenever he used to enter the ward he used to get packets of 'khaakras' for the staff. The couple had been running this business.

Our posts changed and soon we passed out. One day, I met her husband in the train. On seeing me, he immediately hugged me and burst into tears. His wife had left him for the heavens. I felt very bad that day. I along with my family stopped eating 'khaakras' from that day.

PRESENT.

Every time we buy the 'khaakras' from the lady who comes at our door, It is out of respect. We distribute them to our maids, drivers and other staff. I do not want to see dejection on the old hard working lady's face. I help her indirectly, this way.

I can see the tears behind her smiling face.