Dedicated to my little sister, my sweet cousin, Srinika

You are the most beautiful baby I've seen, and you have helped me learn what love without expectation is. Your innocent smile and sweet eyes see the world shining with hope and mystery that diminishes as we grow older. Yet, with your arrival and presence in my life, I've rediscovered the inexplicable childish happiness that doesn't need a reason that had been absent for so long.

You have been named after the lotus that resides in the heart of the Supreme God, Vishnu, i.e., Goddess Lakshmi, and you've been that and so much more for our home and family. From prosperity to happiness, seeing you once, we forgo each sorrow and worry, welcoming the joy you embody. 

For me, no matter how much I write, read or experience in the future, getting to name you will always be a highlight in my life that cannot be surpassed. The memories from the first time that I held you to how comforting and warm your little arms feel when I hug you, they'll always be special.

Seeing you toddle about now on your two little feet, babbling as you go, asking about every new speck of dust on the wall or leaf on a tree, regarding everything with curiosity and excitement, breathes fresh air into my lungs and life. You are my world, my baby sister, and I love you so much <3

Happy 2nd birthday! 

I know you are too young to understand the nuances of life and that everything around you is a giant mystery called life where nothing terrible exists, but I pray to God for your good health and for your innocence to be preserved forever. 

May the raw happiness that arises from the simplest of actions persist and remain constant in your life long after I'm gone. For you, I am just someone who you meet once in a while and converse with sometimes on a video call, but for me, you are a ray of sunshine that brightened my world. You are my baby as much as you are the family's. You are the apple of our eyes, and may you always find your solace with us the same way we seek respite with your sweet smile.

I love you, aamar chhoto bonu <3 

Bhalo theko, sona. Prithibi te jeno tomar khushi r jonne jayga kono dino na furay and tumi jaate sob somoy susasthe akshay thako.

_____

"Tear-stained cheeks,

Lips too numb to speak;

A dry throat choked with emotion,

A symphony of firsts, unfurled,

Eyes flutter open to baffling revelation.

Tiny hands clasp your finger,

The world is old yet brand new,

A milk-drunk slumber, a fragile sigh,

Shadows linger in a mother's eye.

An aching body, sore muscles,

Gentle mind, saturated with love,

Exhaustion suppressing internal battles.

An unsung lullaby's melody,

Permeates the air,

The bittersweet longing,

vulnerabilities and bosom bare.

Fatigued, heavy eyes,

Cries echoing in the ear, crippling sleepless nights.

Weighed down by responsibility, 

yet empowered by love,

The arms that come together,

To form an ethereal cradle,

Whispering soft nothings, 

Soothing and imbuing.

Through the beautiful scars that malign,

There is a peace that descends,

When the first cry emanates.

The first touch of the little limbs,

The first time those eyes gaze up,

Empty yet full, innocent, helpless,

Taking in the view.

The bittersweet journey thus ensues,

Carrying within conflicts and pain,

Suppressed tears that threaten to fall,

Dulled by the fond smile and concealed emotion.

Unsung lullabies continue to linger,

Long after the day is done,

When slumber beckons,

And the dam breaks apart.

The love's there, as is the joy,

Maternal bliss, unforgiving and coy.

The quietened whispers that hide away what's tough

deafen when night falls.

The darkness never ceases to echo the strain,

Of unconditional love, sleeplessness, and the smile 

That stays intact despite the internal pain.

The tune loiters around the world,

Finding its place, to put to sleep,

A mother's heart is struggling to beat.

The swaddle of serenity is all that one craves,

To nestle within the peace,

In the cruel world, that has the potential to kill and destroy.

Life after birth isn't just a new beginning,

But the onset of a new journey that ceases to diminish.

The road's narrow and long, curved and steep,

A mother's tears are secondary,

As the helpless baby weeps.

Being cradled in the warmth that is familiar and sweet,

The neonate's heart is at peace.

A mother's smile reflects the content,

finding the strength to sustain,

steering against the ruthless current.

The unsung lullabies of the beautiful journey,

Are thus, concealed and hidden,

A facade of perfection threatens to riddle.

As the sun sets over the horizon,

There is a semblance of completeness that descends,

Through the imperfection and hindrance.

Thus, a metamorphosis emanates,

As motherhood is embraced..."

-Elegiac_Damsel

________

October 6

Kolkata, India

The City of Joy, draped in the vibrant hues of Durga Puja, held its breath as the sun set on the day of Durga Astami. The autumn air, usually crisp and alive with the rhythmic pounding of dhak drums, was muted by the calm hum of the air conditioner in the sterile hospital room as Mrinalini stirred. A symphony of beeps and the phantom ache in her abdomen pulled her from the oblivion of general anaesthesia. Disorientation clung to her like a cobweb, her vision blurry as she instinctively sought her baby bump's familiar weight. 

Her abdomen was still bloated and heavy, almost like she was still pregnant, and yet the void in her womb was palpable. Relief washed over her. But it was a relief laced with a prickling unease and instant trepidation. Empty. The sterile white walls mocked her with their silence. Where was the coo of a newborn, the reassuring presence of a loved one? 

Panic clawed at her throat, a silent scream trapped behind dry, cracked lips. She looked around herself, taking in the blurry walls and monitors she had been hooked onto. The IV in her arm throbbed as she moved, trying to sit up, a sharp pain coursing through her lower abdomen and pelvis, making her gasp. Something wet and warm trickled out of her, and she felt a tear of helplessness escape her eye. Unanswered questions clouded her senses, driving her mind to the brink of momentary insanity and constant fear. Where was her baby? What was happening to her? Where was everyone? Did something happen to her child?

She could feel a thick pad against her pelvis. A nurse must have helped her into it while she had been unconscious post-birth. The hospital gown that she had on was drab and slightly rough against her skin, especially around her abdominal region, probably due to the stitches, causing a sudden bout of pain as she moved slightly, testing the waters. Something hard was kept next to her pillow, and she could feel it was a remote. She pressed one of the buttons, and as the upper half of the bed lifted slightly, enabling her to sit up with support, she sighed in relief. 

Suppressing a triumphant smile despite her pain and discomfort, she checked her surroundings, looking for her phone or a watch that would help her figure out the time or get in touch with Debarghya. Being able to sit up and see more than just the ceiling felt welcoming, easing her. Some of the panic that had crippled her initially fizzled away as she pressed another button in the same remote that had a call symbol, trying to alert someone at the nurse station. 

"Good evening," a friendly nurse greeted her with a smile as she entered the room. "How are you feeling?"

Mrinalini's voice was hoarse, and her throat felt as dry as sandpaper. "My baby," she managed to croak out. 

The nurse smiled and poured a glass of water for the new mother. "Drink this up," she said, holding it out to Mrinalini. Your baby is doing fine."

A choked sob escaped Mrinalini as a wave of emotions overcame her. "I... I couldn't..."

Her voice trailed off as tears welled up in her eyes.

"It's okay, Mrs Acharya," the nurse reassured her softly. "You wouldn't have felt anything as you were under general anaesthesia. Your blood pressure was dangerously high, and you were bleeding out due to placental abruption. The baby was in distress as it got everything from the placenta, including nutrients and oxygen. You had to be put under for the procedure to be completed without further complications. Don't worry. Your beautiful baby girl is doing fine. She was born with a healthy weight of 3 kilograms. We cleaned and swaddled her; she is currently in the neonatal unit with other babies. You can meet her soon."

Mrinalini took a shaky sip of water, her gaze falling to the bleak ceiling. In a quivering voice, she asked, "Where is he?"

"Your mother, husband, and brother-in-law were here earlier. Since you were still unconscious due to the anaesthesia, they left a while ago," the nurse replied apologetically. "Your husband said he'll be back after dropping your mother home. They were here all afternoon. Don't worry. We are around should you need anything till he gets back."

Mrinalini closed her eyes, tears finally spilling down her cheeks. A cocktail of emotions- relief, exhaustion, happiness, fear, loneliness, and an irresistible yearning to hold her daughter- swirled within her.

"Can I see her?" she whispered.

"I'll get her here soon," the nurse responded with a smile. 

"It hurts," Mrinalini told the nurse, pointing at her abdomen. "It is natural," she replied sympathetically. "You are already being administered morphine at the prescribed dosage. The pain won't dissipate immediately, but it has been significantly numbed. You don't need to get up to do anything now. You are hooked with a catheter, and you are already put in pads. Menstruation post-birth is always heavy, so you need a heavily absorbent pad, almost like a diaper. We are here to help you with everything. Just relax. It will help your body recover. A caesarian isn't an easy surgery."

Mortification filled Mrinalini as she looked down at herself, stunned and unsure, not used to being this helpless or immobile. "It is okay," the nurse continued, seeing her demeanour change. "I understand that you have never been in this position before, but giving birth is an arduous task for your body. You won't get the rest when you return home with the baby. I know it is difficult, but we are here to help you recover."

The kind, reassuring smile from the nurse made Mrinalini nod, her lips turning upward in reciprocation. "When can I see my baby?" she asked in earnest. "I want to hold her."

"I'll get her for you," the nurse replied. "I was unconscious. Has she been fed?" Mrinalini asked, remembering her sore and swollen breasts that had left twin stains on the hospital gown due to lactation. A guilty look was apparent, combined with some embarrassment, as she tried to cover the dark, wet spots. 

"We started her on some colostrum," the nurse patiently replied. You can feed her when I get here. Don't be worried about the stains. This is normal for lactating and breastfeeding mothers in the initial days."

Mrinalini nodded in response, looking on as the door closed behind the nurse. The lonely emptiness descended again, making her fall back into bed, her head resting against the soft pillow. The pristine white ceiling blurred before her eyes as disoriented drowsiness overtook her. She closed her eyes, containing the emotions that coursed through her as she waited in anticipation of seeing her baby for the first time, a little daughter she had prayed for.

"Mrinal?" she felt a voice jolt her awake from the stupor that the morphine had induced. "Are you alright?"

"Debarghya," Mrinalini replied quietly, opening her eyes to look at her husband. He had changed into fresh clothes since the last time that she had seen him before giving birth. His worry was apparent on his face as he stood by her bedside, looking at her intensely.

"You weren't there," Mrinalini whispered. "I haven't seen my baby yet."

"I am sorry," he replied. "I met the nurse on my way in. You'll see our daughter soon. She is tiny, has some hair, and has a tiny button nose. She was quiet when I saw her first, but the moment I took her in my arms, she burst into tears."

Mrinalini's lips twitched as she imagined the situation. In most books and movies, babies seemed to settle down quickly in their parents' arms and yet her husband had to experience the mortifying moment when their daughter did just the opposite.

"I am sure she didn't intend to cry because you were holding her," she replied softly. "She must have been overwhelmed by her abrupt entrance into the world."

Debarghya smiled, looking at his wife as she leaned against the pillow, her eyelids heavy and drooping. Her hair was in an untidy braid, and she seemed utterly disoriented and pale. He could see how she was wincing at the slightest movement, undoubtedly concealing her pain from the aftermath of the birth and the extensive surgery that her body had to survive. 

"Is everyone at home alright?" Mrinalini asked Debarghya, leaning back on the bed. Her eyes drifted to the door, and anticipation filled her chest. "Did Ma get to hold our baby?"

"Ma and Rishi did," Debarghya replied. "Brishti will be here in the morning tomorrow. She is staying over at home for the night with her son. I had clicked a few photographs of our daughter for everyone to see."

"So I am going to be the last one to see her?" she whispered. "She'll still know I am her mother, won't she? And she wouldn't mind that I didn't see her for many hours after her birth?"

"She's a baby, Mrinal," Debarghya reassured her gently. "The only language she knows right now is crying. It will take her several years to understand that you gave birth to her. To her, you are the only one she'll seek when she needs comfort, milk, sleep, and everything else. Unlike grown humans, she isn't one to hold grudges. You are the only one in the world who she knows. You were unconscious after suffering intense bleeding and a risky, complicated surgery. Why would you think that makes you any less a mother simply because you weren't there to witness her first cry?"

Just then, the sterile white door creaked open, momentarily shattering the hushed conversation between Mrinalini and Debarghya. The nurse, a beacon of calm amidst the whirlwind of emotions, cradled a bundle in the softest peachish-pink Mrinalini had ever seen. It was a colour that mirrored the twilight sky, the one that had been a witness to the numerous retrospective introspections that Debarghya and herself had been subjected to over the years. 

The world dissolved into a hazy watercolour painting. The harsh overhead lights blurred, their intensity replaced by a warm, golden glow that seemed to emanate from the tiny human in the nurse's arms. Mrinalini felt a tug in her chest, a raw ache that morphed into a fierce, possessive love. This, this tiny creature with its downy fuzz and button nose, was hers. It was a melody finally finding its notes, the unsung lullabies taking form in the soft coo that escaped the baby's lips.

The nurse placed the bundle in the anxious, loving mother's arms, the weight a comforting surprise, before retreating to give the new parents some privacy. Fragile, impossibly tiny fingers grasped at the air, then instinctively curled around Mrinalini's thumb. It was a connection that transcended words, a silent promise whispered in the language of skin against skin. The baby's face, a canvas of discovery, was a study in perfect imperfection. Dark, downy hair swirled in a haphazard halo, framing eyes still sealed shut. Yet, Mrinalini could swear they held a universe of unspoken emotions waiting to bloom. Her heart, a fragile bloom itself after the storm of surgery, unfurled further with each shallow breath her daughter took. The sterile room faded away at that moment, replaced by a kaleidoscope of whispered promises and the melody of unsung lullabies finally taking flight. 

This tiny being, a testament to resilience and love, was a blank page waiting to be filled with their story, which began with a mother's first tentative touch. Mrinalini managed a weak smile, tears stinging her eyes. The exhaustion, fear, and uncertainty fizzled away. This, this beautiful, fragile life cradled in her arms, was the culmination of their journey, of an uncertain marriage, gradual companionship and love, the whispered promises and suppressed desires and expectations finally taking its first breath. 

"Our daughter," Mrinalini whispered, testing the words as she said them aloud. She could feel Debarghya's gaze on her and their baby, but she couldn't bring herself to look away from the tiny creature nestled in her arms, so trusting and defenceless, warm and cool, a calm and serene aura emanating from her. She gently pressed her fingers against the baby's swaddle, trying to feel her little toes. The small pink lips withdrew into an impossible pout as the baby fidgeted slightly. Her eyes opened a wink, looking up with giant moist orbs of void, clearly displeased with the lights that were intruding on her sleep and yet strangely fascinated with the woman who looked down upon her like the universe was cradled in her arms.

The initial moment of peaceful serenity was fleeting. A tremor ran through the tiny bundle, a wrinkle appearing on the baby's forehead. Her grasp on Mrinalini's thumb tightened, then unfurled into frantic, grasping motions. A soft mewling sound escaped her lips, escalating rapidly into a full-blown cry. The raw and primal sound sent a pang of sympathy and a jolt of adrenaline through Mrinalini. In that instant, the fierce maternal protectiveness she'd felt moments ago solidified into a burning need for comfort. The once-perfect canvas of her daughter's face contorted into a mask of distress, her dark lashes fluttering open to reveal eyes brimming with tears. Mrinalini, her heart clenching with a new kind of ache, cradled the baby closer, the melody of unsung lullabies morphing into a hesitant hum, a promise yet to be sung.

"She's crying, Arghya," Mrinalini told her husband, bewildered. "Why is she crying? How do I get her to settle down?"

"She's a baby, Mrinal," Debarghya replied patiently. "She just needs some comfort and is probably hungry and anxious. You are her mother. She feels your presence. Just hold her close. I'll get the nurse, okay? She can guide you on how to feed our daughter. Don't be scared. It is only natural for babies to cry. They don't know how else to communicate."

Mrinalini nodded, bringing her daughter's head to rest against her chest. The rhythmic contractions of her heart thumped against her ribs as the fragile being in her arms threw her arms around with a strength beyond what she could have thought possible to try and grasp onto something. Her fingers found Mrinalini's thumb again, and a tiny whimper escaped her as she calmed down. Her small pink lips jutted out, and her little face was pink, probably due to the flustered crying session that she had just concluded.

"I am right here, baby," Mrinalini cooed at her daughter, rocking her arms instinctively in a gentle tempo. "Mumma's going to feed you soon, okay? You won't be hungry for long. It's just her first time, and she will learn how to care for you. I promise, sweetheart."

"Don't be hard on yourself," the nurse told Mrinalini as she entered the room, followed by Debarghya. "Your daughter is probably hungry. If your milk output is ample, then you can feed her."

Mrinalini felt the heaviness in her breasts. Her body was sore, and the pain and overflow of hormones owing to her pregnancy and the emergent C-section had made every part of her body overly sensitive. She had felt something trickle out of her areolae that had wet the hospital gown slightly. Still, it was only now that the nurse said that she realised that she had been lactating, something that had enhanced when she had heard her daughter cry, almost like her body was aware of her child's needs and had reacted involuntarily with maternal instincts that were strangely familiar to her.

"I'll help you get used to the position and how to help her latch. It is new, so it is only natural for it to feel a little weird, but it will be okay. Do you think you are lactating?"

Mrinalini nodded slightly, avoiding eye contact with Debarghya. They were married, and he knew every part of her body, and yet, the pregnancy had made her insecure with the weight gain and other changes, and no matter how intimate they had been, she felt a sense of consciousness overwhelm her as she pulled her arms close to her chest, hoping that the stains left on the hospital gown weren't too perceptible.

Debarghya caught the movement and looked away, letting out a frustrated sigh. He had gotten used to his wife's insecurities, and although he'd tried to help her overcome them by telling her that she looked beautiful, glowing with the onset of motherhood, he had made peace by being patient and letting her take things at her own pace. After all, pregnancy and birth were overwhelming as it is, and the journey that would follow would include sleepless nights, soreness, and inevitable fatigue. If there was one way this could be made more accessible, it was by not calling her out when she needed that false sense of security.

"I'll be out in the corridor. I need to make a call," Debarghya stated briskly, excusing himself. Mrinalini looked at him retreat, sighing as she leaned further onto the bed. Her baby was in the nurse's arms now, and the nurse was helping her get acquainted with the proper position to feed.

"Place a hand below the baby's head at all times to support her neck. She's too fragile right now. Just tilt her slightly so that her head is slightly elevated compared to the rest of the body. She should be able to latch naturally, but should she have trouble finding the areola, guide her by leaning forward," the nurse explained to Mrinalini as she handed her daughter over. 

The hospital gown had strings that could be untied to expose her breasts, and tentatively, Mrinalini had undone the ties and positioned her baby the way the nurse guided her. The nurse, ever-present and reassuring, guided Mrinalini's trembling hands as she positioned the baby for feeding. The sensation of her daughter's impossibly soft cheek against her bare skin sent a fresh wave of warmth through Mrinalini. The cry had subsided to a whimper, replaced by a frantic snuffling that spoke of a primal hunger. With the nurse's gentle instruction, Mrinalini brought her nipple close to the baby's tiny mouth. A moment of startled confusion flickered across the baby's face, and then a natural instinct took over. Her lips, surprisingly strong for such a delicate being, latched on with a fervour that surprised and comforted Mrinalini. A wave of relief washed over her, so intense it brought tears to her eyes. It was a connection deeper than words, a silent symphony of nourishment and love. The ache in her abdomen, a dull throb now, seemed a small price to pay for this moment, this primal dance of mother and child. As the baby fed, a sense of quiet contentment settled over them both. The melody of unsung lullabies, no longer hesitant, hummed a soft lullaby, a promise whispered not just to the baby but to Mrinalini herself – a promise of a journey filled with challenges and joys, of sleepless nights and unconditional love, a journey that began with this, the first taste of life, skin to skin, mother to child.

The baby drifted off, her little belly sated. Her grip on her mother's thumb loosened, as did the pressure of her mouth on her mother's bosom. Unsung lullabies hung heavy in the air, a haunting prelude to the symphony of firsts that awaited her on the other side of sleep. 

...

October 8

"Debarghya, I want to go home," Mrinalini started without a preamble as soon as she heard the door to her hospital room open and Debarghya step in. "It's dull and lonely here, and I just want to cry all the time. Our baby's not even in the same room as me, and the nurse gets here a few times a day for me to feed her like I am some prized cow. I am going to lose my sanity if you don't take me back home. Please ask the doctor to discharge us. I am tired of being here."

"Shubho Bijoya, Mrinal," Debarghya replied softly, suppressing an affectionate smile. It was Vijaya Dashami. The day had dawned with a radiant glow emanating from the melancholic, joyous vibes that engulfed the City. While the occasion marked the triumph of the Mother Goddess over the evil Mahishasura, the day was strangely bittersweet as the hundreds of thousands of devotees bid farewell to the festival and to the Goddess Durga, with the silent promise of celebrating and meeting again the next year lingering in the air. Just as the grand finale of the Sharadiya Navaratri and Durga Puja brought about a bittersweet symphony of emotions in the City of Joy, awash in a riot of colours, the rhythmic beats of dhaak echoing in the streets and avenues, contrary to the impending adieu that each person sought to bid, suppressing tears, and putting on a smiling facade, the profound change that had descended upon Mrinalini had taken a toll on her in the form of conflicting inner voices. Her womb, once a sacred abode, was now empty. To have given birth on Ashtami had felt like a blessing to the Mother Goddess, who seemed to have chosen the auspicious day for the manifestation of her baby girl, a tiny replica of the divine power that had empowered her through the pain and challenges of birth-giving.

Her daughter was now here, a living testament to the eternal cycle of creation and renewal, a tiny miracle amidst the cosmic dance. While the air was thick with the heady mix of nostalgia and anticipation, a stark contrast to the quietude within Mrinalini's prim and proper hospital room, her mind was deafening, caught in a battleground of its own- trapped between the overwhelming joy of motherhood and yet shaken by the undercurrents of a strange despondency that had set in postpartum, often as silent and pervasive as the autumnal hush that descended upon the city as the festival drew to a close.

"Yeah, wish you the same," Mrinalini replied, annoyed. "It's been two days here, and I am already exhausted. I forgot that Durga Pujo ends today. No one's celebrating here. It's just so dull and white and lonely. Do you see how this is going? I am losing touch with reality."

"Don't exaggerate, Mrinal," Debarghya explained gently. "You have to be here for a few more days. You had a C-section after suffering a placental abruption. Your blood pressure is still way above the normal range. Even if you insist and beg, the doctor isn't likely to discharge you simply because you are bored. It would be best if you had the time to recuperate. It won't be easy when you go home. You are beating yourself right now because this room seems too lonely and dull, but you'll crave this a few hours into taking care of our daughter by yourself once you are back. Give your body time to heal. We have all the time in the world to experience every moment of parenthood together."

"You'll be resuming work tomorrow," Mrinalini stated quietly. "Life is going to go on. We are missing out on minutes, precious hours, and days. We can never have them back. I don't want to be here, Debarghya. I want to be home with you and our baby. These white walls make me feel claustrophobic. I can't go to pee without the nurse being here to get this IV needle out of me. I am done here. I feel this terrible urge to cry. It pains everywhere, from my abdomen to the waist down. My nether parts sting and I feel the pain amplifying with each minute that I spend here, and it isn't because the drugs being pumped into my system aren't doing their job, but because the voices in my empty head are overworking my endocrinal system and ruining my mental health. Just take me home, Debarghya, please."

With that, Mrinalini broke down. Her body shook with the intensity of her loud sobs. The heart rate monitor she was hooked onto beeped wildly as she flailed her arms around. "Let me go home, or at least let my baby be here. Please. I cannot survive alone with you dropping by only during visiting hours."

"Mrinal, keep quiet," Debarghya told her firmly as he embraced her gently, carefully avoiding the IV needle that went up in her arm. "Calm down. You are not alone right now. I am here with you; the nurse will bring our baby up soon. Do you want her to see you crying? Please don't cry, Mrinal. Let's talk once she's here. Breathe for now. You aren't alone."

Mrinalini let out a whimper as she sunk further into Debarghya's hold, clutching him closer. Her tears had left wet splotches on his shirt. "What's happening to me, Debarghya?" she asked quietly. Her voice was croaky as she swallowed the hiccups that her crying had induced. 

"Nothing's wrong with you," he replied patiently. "It's just overwhelming, and you feel it at an increased magnitude within these four sterile walls of the hospital. Now listen to me carefully, Mrinal. I spoke to the doctor yesterday about when I can take you home. Everyone and our daughter are impatient to have you back there, but Dr Mitra begs to differ."

"But I am perfectly fine," Mrinalini protested. "Shhh," he told her firmly, holding his palm in the air. "You are menstruating right now, and before you say that is normal, the amount of blood you've been passing and the size and frequency of blood clots especially is an alarming cause of concern for which the doctors want to keep you under close monitoring. This is tough for you, but it is in your best interest. You cannot go home unless the bleeding ceases at a normal rate. Your blood pressure is too high. If I take you home now, there are high chances of you having to return here due to dizziness, fatigue, fluctuating levels, and perhaps even shock. No one's keeping you from home because they want to, Mrinal. And if you don't cut yourself some slack and prioritise your health, it will make things difficult for the baby, me, the doctor, and most of all, for you. The nurse isn't helping you to make you feel dependent on her, but you can't recognise the same because your body needs the help."

Mrinalini remained quiet as she absorbed Debarghya's words. "I'm sorry," she whispered. I miss everything."

"I offered to stay with you, Mrinal," Debarghya reminded her. "You know your mother can't because she is the only caregiver for your grandmother, and there's no one else who can be here. You asked me not to stay or rather prohibited me from doing so. Talk to me. Tell me what is wrong."

"I don't want you to be around when the nurse is changing me or helping me walk to the toilet and squat," she replied, her eyes downcast. "I don't want you to see the stretch marks that mar the flab around my abdomen or the scar from the Caesarean just yet. It would help if you didn't see how I grimace sometimes when your daughter is being fed because it hurts my nipple. I am not comfortable yet, Debarghya. This body postpartum doesn't feel like me. I have never felt so vulnerable and out of control before, and it is killing me. A part of me yearns for you to be around so that the ghostly silence in the wall doesn't swallow me whole, yet something is inhibiting me. I feel self-conscious and tired. I want to hold my daughter all day and close my eyes sometimes, reminiscing how I felt before my breasts became heavier with milk or how my midriff, although never thin and in shape, never felt so bulgy and odd. I haven't seen my own two feet for a few months now while standing, and I want to settle into my new life, help my baby accept me and get used to having her in my arms, caring for her alone. I don't want the nurses here to control when I hold my baby and when I don't or them telling me everything. I know they're helping, but I need more. I need to discover and learn if my child is crying for affection or milk or if she needs to be sung a quiet lullaby to help her fall asleep. I need some semblance of that independence that we have outside a hospital room, and I am so sick and tired of having the bland and tasteless food that they've been feeding me. I am craving something sour and spicy. And yes, I want to be able to sleep in the same room as you and get used to us knowing each other as parents now, more than just a married couple. I need the intimacy and privacy for accepting myself again, and eventually, I hope you'll accept this body too, once I have been able to."

"I hear you loud and clear," he told her, holding her hand and caressing the back of it with his thumb. "Our daughter's going to be here soon. Let us enjoy that moment for now. Once we go back home, there will be so much more for us to be able to experience, Mrinal."

"Why isn't it like how they show in the movies?" she asked childishly with a pout. "Aren't you supposed to reassure me more with some romantic words or something? And you didn't even sneak something like chocolate for me after I gave birth to your child. I carried her for nine months, and this is all I get? Where are the flowers and books and the forehead kiss?"

"You are allergic to pollen and aren't supposed to have chocolate right now. I'll bring you a couple of your books from home so you can pass the time. And you know I am not good with words or expressing anything, and I can't kiss you here," he defended sheepishly. "I am grateful to you for..."

"Don't," Mrinalini interrupted him with a grimace. "I am better off with you just holding my hand and not saying anything than thanking your wife for carrying and giving birth to your baby like you would thank your boss for an appraisal in an email."

"And here I thought mood swings ceased postpartum," Debarghya muttered under his breath, running his fingers through his hair. His forehead creased in part in confusion and annoyance.

A gentle knock on the door saved him from Mrinalini's reply. Her ashen face had visibly darkened at his muffled words and lit up with a smile. A warm longing shone through her eyes as she knew her daughter was waiting for her behind the door.

"Come in," she said softly, a smile gracing her lips. The long days in the hospital room were tiring, but she lived for these few moments when she could cherish holding her daughter close to her.

"She's been up and about, fussing impatiently for quite some time now," the nurse announced with a smile as she entered, walking with the little bundle of joy. "Looks like she misses you as much as you miss her."

"My baby," Mrinalini cooed as she took her baby in her arms, carefully cradling her. Her forearm supported the delicate neck. "Did you make any new friends, sweetheart?"

"She's been promoted to the third row now," Debarghya remarked at that, having dropped by earlier to see his daughter through the glass partition of the nursery where all the newborns were kept under close monitoring. "Apparently, the babies are kept ordered by seniority, so she is one of the seniors in the nursery now."

Mrinalini laughed as she looked at her daughter's wide eyes. "Did you meet your grandmother and aunt today? And did your Uncle already tell you which football team you will support?"

"He did. I won't be surprised if our daughter's first word ends up being Barca," Debarghya replied, his laugh mirroring his wife's amusement. "And your mother did drop by earlier to see her. Your grandmother and my mother are yet to see her, though. Given the rush and traffic during Pujo, I didn't think it would be wise to get them here. You know how much Ma deals with pain if she has to be in a car for too long and your grandmother has been ill on and off. It is best not to expose her to further pathogens by bringing her into this Petri dish of germs at the hospital."

"Hmmm," Mrinalini replied absent-mindedly, enraptured and taken by her daughter. Her focus was entirely on the small, pink, round face with two orbs filled with empty curiosity. We need to decide on a nickname for her," she mused softly. Did anyone back home come up with any suggestions?"

Debarghya shrugged. "Ma suggested Medha, which apparently means 'one of great wisdom and intellect', an ode to the Goddess of knowledge, learning, and cosmic balance, Saraswati."

"That's perfect," Mrinalini exhaled. "She is our home's Lakshmi, born on Durga Ashtami and affectionately named after Goddess Saraswati. And Medha is such a sweet name. Don't you think?"

"I do," Debarghya replied with a smile. "Medha for us," Mrinalini punctuated, looking at her daughter lovingly. "Debaparna, for the world."

The baby let out a cry, and Mrinalini immediately hastened to unfasten the strap of the maternity brassiere that she had worn. "Could you please pass me that cloth?" she asked Debarghya as she positioned the child in her arms, helping her settle into a comfortable stance to feed.

"I'll step out," Debarghya said quietly, passing the cotton muslin burp cloth that had been kept on the side table only slightly out of her reach. "Stay, Arghya," Mrinalini replied without looking up. "You don't have to step out."

...

"She's so tiny," Mrinalini marvelled aloud as she looked over her daughter, who had fallen asleep shortly after being fed and burped. One of the little fists was tightly gripping her index finger, almost like the little soul sought the closeness of her mother, needing the reassuring, tangible presence that mattered to her sated and peaceful self.

"Do you think she'll look like you, or will she look like me when she grows?" she asked her husband, who was silently looking over his wife and sleeping child. 

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Truth be told, all newborns look the same. It took Rishi 5 minutes to locate his niece yesterday because all the babies had round pink faces, little hair, and similar features. Maybe we can tell in a few months."

"Come on, Debarghya," Mrinalini replied, rolling her eyes. "I am sure we'll be able to recognise our daughter among ten or fifteen babies. There is something distinct in their features that isn't apparent, but they are all unique. A few months ago, I would have agreed with you about newborns looking just the same, but now, as a mother, I am not so sure. I can tell my daughter apart by her eyes, even when closed. I can recognise her little face and each feature. She has a tiny beige birthmark near her left little toe, and look at her nose. I know her features are not distinctive or completely developed, but I don't know why; I feel like I can see a glimpse of you when she grins lopsidedly, involuntarily, after being fed. The way she wrinkles her nose before starting to cry, I see a close resemblance to your sleeping form when you snore at night."

Debarghya laughed aloud. "So you predict our daughter will look more like me than you?"

Mrinalini nodded.

A steady silence descended in the room as the baby drifted off to sleep gradually. Her mouth, which had delicately yet determinedly latched onto her mother's areola in pursuit of milk, slackened off, and her eyes drifted close. Mrinalini lifted her daughter, placing her gently on her shoulder while supporting her neck and patting her on the back consistently like the nurse had shown her to help her burp.

"How do you make out if she has burped?" Debarghya asked, confused as Mrinalini brought the baby back in her arms, cradling her close to her chest and rocking gently.

"She lets out a small sigh. The breath she lets out feels warm on your shoulder, and the sound is soft, almost imperceptible," Mrinalini explained. "Was Archisman happy to hear he has a little sister now?"

"He wanted a brother," Debarghya replied. "Because apparently, you cannot play rough with girls. I don't know who taught him this weird form of chivalry, but that means our daughter will have a good elder brother to look out for her, so I am not complaining."

"I am sure they'll share a great bond," Mrinalini commented, reminiscing about the good memories she had of childhood with her older cousin, Abhrajit. The bond siblings share is always special."

"I haven't told anyone what we will name our daughter yet," Debarghya told Mrinalini. "We'll do that when she enters our home for the first time and meets everyone near and dear."

"Didn't Ma ask?" Mrinalini asked, referring to her mother-in-law. "She had such a long list of names that she wanted me to scrounge through. It was exhausting."

"Excitement and anticipation," he replied. "I did tell her that we have a name in mind that you had decided, but I didn't divulge any massive details. Although she wanted to know what letter the name starts with, I put her curiosity to ease, thereby revealing it."

"Her name isn't too old school, right?" Mrinalini asked her husband in serious contemplation. "I liked the name, which also has a part of your name and its meaning. It's okay if we name her Debaparna, right?"

"She's our child," Debarghya replied. "Neither of us chose our names. We are right to choose a beautiful and meaningful name for her. I don't think it is old school, but then I am a decade older than you and am not very aware of the standard names that parents name their children after in this day and age. However, I think she'll appreciate the meaning, Mrinal, and learn to embrace her name with pride. I don't think there's anything wrong with naming her Debaparna. It is a sweet name. It's our first and only child, Mrinal. She deserves a good name, and this is a name steeped in tradition with a modern, elegant ring to it. Don't overthink it, Mrinal."

"I suppose you are right," she replied, still unsure. 

"She's sleeping?" the nurse's voice interrupted their conversation. "Should I take her back to the nursery, Mrs Acharya?"

"Can she not be here for a little longer?" Mrinalini requested in earnest. "You can take her away once her father leaves. There's some time until the visiting hours conclude, right?"

"You have an hour," the nurse replied, smiling amiably. "Press the call button should you need anything. I'll be at the nurse station."

"Thank you so much," Debarghya replied on his wife's behalf. "For taking care of everything so patiently. It means a lot to me and my family, especially since neither of us is always around with her."

"It's my duty, sir," she replied politely, acknowledging the new father's gesture of gratitude. "And I am a mother, so I understand how it feels to be in your wife's shoes."

"Do you not get a single day off during the festivities?" Mrinalini asked curiously. "I do not mean to pry, but you just mentioned that you are a mother, and you've been working straight since yesterday, i.e., Ashtami, and today is Dashami."

"We get a day off during Durga Pujo on rotation," the nurse replied, shrugging. "I had my day off on Saptami, and although I miss being with my children, I have two, a son and a daughter; this is the duty and job I signed up for."

Mrinalini was stunned into silence, smiling as the nurse closed the door and left. "It's such a difficult job, isn't it, Debarghya?" she mused. "While the city celebrates with families and friends, people like her who work in emergency services are up and about. For the past two days, she has been helping me change blood-soaked pads and hospital gowns, walk to the toilet, and feed my infant daughter while missing celebrations with her family."

"No job is big or small, Mrinal," Debarghya replied diplomatically. "There are challenges in the minutest of roles that people undertake. Sacrifices are a part of it. As far as emergency services like the armed forces, police, fire brigade, and healthcare professionals go, I am amazed too at how easily they can work during the holiday season or festivals, unwaveringly diligent with what they do. I truly appreciate her and everyone in the hospital who's been there to care for you and our baby."

Mrinalini smiled, looking at her husband fondly. "Did you miss me?"

"You know I did. Not having you around is strange, especially since it is Durga Puja. Even today, when the celebrations ended, and the idol was being lifted off to be taken away for immersion, I realised that this year, it wasn't about the festivities or the celebrations. It's just been about you and our baby and how you missed everything. The neighbours kept asking about you, and although our home is full, happy and joyous, it felt strangely empty without you and, of course, our child."

"Shubho Bijoya," Mrinalini whispered. "I am sorry I was rude when you wished me earlier." 

Debarghya shrugged. "It doesn't matter, Mrinal. I am probably not empathetic enough or considerate enough about what you've faced in the last nine or ten months, and I won't pretend that I understand everything, but I am going to try, okay? You have a few months off after this to recuperate and focus on yourself and our child. I will not have much time even then, but I will try and be proactive as a father."

"Okay," Mrinalini replied. "Now, can you please lift your feet on the bed?"

He looked at her incredulously. "Why would I do something like that?"

"Well, I always do touch your feet on Vijaya Dashami like I touch every elder's, do I not? I am in no position to bend and seek your blessings, Debarghya, so can you meet me halfway here?"

"No," he replied obstinately. "Absolutely not. I tell you every year that you do not have to and that you shouldn't touch my feet. Why would I want you to do so? Especially now, not even two days into recovery post-birth."

"But you have to bless our daughter," Mrinalini replied equally stubbornly. "And even if I can't bend down and touch your feet, you need to bless me just as you do every year. I am not going to compromise there."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Debarghya held out his arms, reaching for his daughter's sleeping form as Mrinalini lowered her gently. "Hold her properly," she insisted. "Her neck should be supported. She is too fragile."

"I've got this," he replied. Bending down to his daughter's little head, he whispered something inaudibly, punctuating with a soft peck on her tiny forehead. The sound of a camera clicking made him look up at his wife, who had a smile on her face and was holding up her mobile phone triumphantly. Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

"I had to capture the moment," she explained, laughing as she wiped off a tear from the corner of her eye. "It is just that seeing you with her is so endearing and enrapturing, and I barely remember my father. I couldn't help but wonder if..."

Her voice trailed off, choked with emotion. "I can't explain how blessed I feel at this moment, grateful for this baby that I have and for you and for the fact that she has you," she continued after a pregnant pause. "We'll try and give her everything that we can."

Debarghya set his daughter down gently in the empty bassinet next to Mrinalini's bed and took a seat by his wife's side. "I am sorry; it is just that I felt this urge to cry," she justified. "I don't know why I don't have a lid on myself right now."

"It's okay," he whispered reassuringly. 

"It is just so strange to think that this womb was not empty barely two days ago," she mused nostalgically as she caressed her abdomen, which still resembled the bulge of her third-trimester pregnant belly. She seemed to be preoccupied in a mindless stupor. "She was safe here and secure. I felt her little moves every time. And now, she is out there, out of my sight most of the time. I woke up feeling so anxious last night, Debarghya. It was a dream, a nightmare. One minute, I was singing lullabies, putting her to sleep, and then the next, she vanished from my arms. It was terrifying. I woke up crying and sweating, and the nurse had to calm me down. I never felt lonelier and more helpless than I had at that moment."

"Why didn't you call me?" he asked quietly. "You don't need to deal with your demons alone, Mrinal."

Mrinalini nodded, reaching for her husband's hand and clenching it tightly, almost as if she were trying to feel his presence. 

"Nothing bad shall happen to our baby, Mrinal," Debarghya told his wife. "She has our prayers, love, and our blessings, our elders'. She is protected, and God willing, she shall be safe forever. You know what her name stands for, don't you?"

Mrinalini smiled through glassy eyes, nodding. "Debaparna; Deb + Parna, or Deb+ Aparna. In one context, she is the divine leaf that safeguards the world from the throes of evil or the wrath of nature, protecting those who seek shelter. She is the paradigm of life that God has created, of the sacred gift that we've been blessed with. Her name ascends beyond the earthly realm, nurtured by celestial dew, a fragment of the cosmic dance. And just as we got our little angel on the day of Durga Ashtami, her name is a unique tapestry that conjoins divinity and ethereal glow with 'Aparna', a name synonymous with the mighty Goddess Durga. To us, she isn't just a daughter but the very invocation of a prayer, of a blessing. To the world, I hope and pray that she grows to be a tender leaf cradled by the divine, lively, radiant, resilient, and strong, a reflection of the cosmic mother. Let our baby girl be a symphony of sanctity, creation, and preservation, the harbinger of a universe of hope, love, and joy into our little world."

...

October 12

It was the day when Bengal celebrated the veneration of the Goddess of Wealth and Prosperity, Lakshmi. A full moon graced the dark sky, lighting up the world with its radiance, a promise of optimism and prosperity lingering in the air.

For Mrinalini, it was slightly daunting. She had been discharged from the hospital earlier with her baby daughter. Debarghya and Debrishi were accompanying her now as the cab sped towards their home into the silent evening. With a plethora of mixed feelings coursing through herself, she prepared to return to their home, relieved and yet worried and anxious now that she had a tiny little human being to take care of.

The car journey through the busy city roads was a blur of emotions. The weight of the newborn, swaddled in a soft cotton muslin blanket, felt heavy. A surge of protectiveness washed over her as she gazed at the tiny, fragile life that depended on her, seeking her love, attention, milk, and closeness. Joy and anxiety, disbelief, and nervousness orchestrated a poignant consonance in her heart; thus was the euphoria termed motherhood. Beneath the external facade of maternal bliss, a quiet turmoil brewed, much like a dark shadow cast beneath the ethereal glow of light. Mrinalini cradled her baby tightly, holding her closer, much like she was carrying a porcelain doll that was precious and delicate, and the world that awaited represented a tempestuous sea.

It was easier when her little angel had been protected within the warm abyss of her womb, oblivious to the atrocities and evils of the world. Even in the hospital, the sterile and controlled environment, albeit suffocating, the task of managing the baby and keeping her safe had seemed manageable, but now, the real world awaited with its unpredictable currents and daunting depths. The fear of the unknown gripped Mrinalini's heart and psyche hard, a constant undercurrent to the overwhelming love that she felt for her baby. How would she protect her child from the world and, more importantly, from those closest to them who may harbour ill intentions behind the pretence of love and care?

A shadow of her mother's trauma crept into her consciousness. Her mother, a victim of her own brother-in-law's evils, had carried the scars of that violation for a lifetime. The fear of history repeating itself was a constant undercurrent, a silent spectre haunting her dreams. As the car turned into their driveway, a new chapter was about to begin, filled with promises of love, peril, and some inevitable challenges.

Mrinalini shivered slightly as Debarghya opened the car door for her, stepping back with his hand outstretched so he could help her step out with the baby. 

"I'll get the bags for you, Boudi," she heard Debrishi say through the dull ringing in her ears that had ensued following the harsh, deafening whispers of her mind. "We are home, Mrinal," Debarghya told his wife reassuringly. "It may seem difficult now, but it won't be. Trust me. You were pining to be back. Why hesitate now?"

Mrinalini remained quiet, shaking her head, brushing off the irrational fear that had overwhelmed her less than a minute ago. "It was just a cramp," she told him. "Let's go."

Moving up the stairs slowly, taking a baby step at a time, Mrinalini walked towards the home that she had entered as a bride more than four years ago. Her hands had clutched the end of her veil back then. The same hands now held a little baby that had been born from her, a sweet fruit borne of the companionship and relationship that their marriage harboured.

The family had gathered at the front door of their modest flat, and Mrinalini could see some simple flower arrangements adorning the threshold and door frame. Her sister-in-law probably had done something to welcome the baby home. Debjani had a veneration winnow plate ready. Although she had come down to the hospital two days ago, she hadn't been able to take her granddaughter in her arms and had to make do with seeing her through the glass partition of the nursery. She hurried to the door as fast as she could with her crutches and motioned for her daughter-in-law to come closer.

Rotating the veneration plate clockwise thrice, she touched it to Mrinalini's forehead and chest before making a stop at her granddaughter's delicate form resting in her mother's protective embrace. A silver coin was touched to the newborn's head as a symbol of prosperity, and as Rai blew the conch, marking the auspiciousness of the occasion, cleansing the ambience with the celestial reverberations, the new mother crossed over the threshold with her little bundle of joy.

"Let me take her in my arms," Debjani said as soon as her daughter-in-law stepped inside. Mrinalini smiled feebly, "Take a seat, Ma. I'll place your granddaughter in your arms."

As soon as little Debaparna was lowered into her grandmother's arms, a peacefully joyous look took over Debjani's features. She looked at her in curious thought, meeting the soft and groggy gaze of the infant who had just started to wake up from her nap. 

"She looks like Deb," she announced with a childlike glee. "I can see a reflection of how my son was as a baby in her."

"She has my daughter's eyes, though," Rai remarked. "I think she'll look just like her favourite uncle when she wears the FC Barcelona romper that I have bought for her," Debrishi interjected, making everyone laugh.

"Can I hold her?" Archisman asked in his little voice. "She is so tiny."

Debarghya looked at his sister, who immediately took the sign and asked her son to sit still in one place. His baby cousin would be placed on his lap carefully, and Mrinalini would be right next to him to ensure the baby's safety as Archisman, although loving in his brotherly manner, was just a toddler with little understanding of how fragile and delicate an infant could be.

With tentative and hesitant hands, Archisman held his sister for the first time. Mrinalini helped him place his palm under her daughter's nape as a support. "Can she play with me?" he asked excitedly as he looked at his sister in wonder. 

"In a few months, sweetheart," Anumegha replied to her son's question. "She is too small to play now. Once she starts moving about, you can play with her all you want."

"When will she start walking?" he asked in innocent earnest. "I want to play with the ball with her."

Mrinalini laughed, placing a loving hand on the toddler's head, "It will take some time before she can walk properly, sweetie. However, if you do not play with her, you can always come and talk to her, tell her about play school, about your friends, and about how you want to play with her. Would you like to tell her about the fair that you went to last week?"

Archisman gave a big grin before babbling off to his baby sister about the rides at the fair and about the ice cream that he had had, followed by the toys that his father had bought him. "She's not even listening," he complained after a while when the baby's eyes fluttered close again, probably exhausted with all the excitement around her. 

"She listens, baby, but she can't respond now. The more you talk to her, the more she learns to recognise you as her brother. She can't talk yet, and she gets tired easily because she needs a lot of sleep," Mrinalini explained patiently. "Let me feed her before she falls asleep and then put her to bed."

Their bedroom was different, transformed and more crowded somehow. There was a little cot right next to their bed, and packages of diapers, clothes, and other essentials for the baby were scattered on the floor. During her period of absence from the house postpartum, it was clear that many people had showered their love and blessings on the baby in the form of several gifts apart from the supplies that she had bought with Debarghya. Their room was quite unkempt. Her husband had quite obviously been unable to keep up with arranging everything by himself with the events unfolding, a testimony to the chaos that had ensued in one week, throwing them onto the road called parenthood.

Mrinalini entered the room with the baby in her arms. Debarghya had kept the baby's bag with some of the supplies, namely, diapers, spare clothes, baby wipes, the baby's burp cloth, and bottles handy, so it took her no time to prop herself against the headboard of their bed and unclasp the maternity brassiere to feed her daughter.

She leaned back in the tranquillity of the room, breathing in her daughter's warm presence in her arms as she sucked away at her breasts fervently, seeking the sweet nectar that her mother had to offer. The baby drifted off to sleep, her mouth letting go of her mother's bosom as her little fists unfurled. She settled back against her mother's protective hold, sated.

Mrinalini placed her daughter's sleeping form over her shoulder, patting her back with gentle firmness, waiting for the soft sigh that escaped the tiny lips, indicating that the milk she had consumed had been burped and wouldn't be thrown up. She set her baby down on the bed, grabbed a fresh diaper and romper, proceeding to change her with a practised agility, something that being around Archisman as an infant and child had helped her master, thus preparing her for this messy aspect of motherhood.

The baby stirred slightly as Mrinalini fastened the last of the tiny side buttons of the romper that had little butterflies printed on it. She took her in her arms again, rocking gently, lulling her back to a peaceful slumber. She looked around the room, sighing in annoyance at the room's condition, the scattered goods that seemed to take up so much space in their modest bedroom.

Looking down to see Debaparna fast asleep, Mrinalini lowered her down to the cot cum cradle gently, carefully retracting her hand from behind her head. She started by clearing the bed of the mess and putting away the few toys, gift boxes, and childcare packages. She noticed a stain on the bedcover, which made her frown. Shaking her head to herself, she pulled the offending piece of cloth off the bed, making up her mind to keep everything as clean as she could around the baby. 

She began tidying up, her movements slow and deliberate. It still hurt her pelvis and lower abdomen when she tried lifting one of the heavy boxes kept in the corner of their room. She huffed, giving up. She would get Debarghya to move it when he came into their room later. She changed the bedsheets and bedcovers, arranged the diapers in an accessible place, and used the study table in their room to organise the manual breast pump, as well as a couple of feeding bottles alongside baby wipes that they would need later. She put away the gifts, separated the skincare products and items like clothes and toys, and arranged the clothes in a neat heap to wash and disinfect before the first use while the toys made their way to the top drawer of their bedside table. 

By the time she finished cleaning the room immaculately, her body was aching with fatigue. She sat on the edge of the freshly made bed, catching her breath. Her mind replayed the happiness and euphoria that had been apparent on each family member's features when she had entered home with her daughter earlier; Debjani and Rai's eyes had been moist, their hands joined in gratitude as they lavished love and blessings on their granddaughter, Anumegha and Debrishi's full smiles that had lit up the room, the protective instinct and affectionate consideration that was apparent in Debarghya's eyes, or the curious and innocent joy that radiated off Archisman- it was a tapestry of emotions, a symphony of love.

But amidst all the euphoria, a flicker of doubt crept into her mind. The world never failed to hide behind a facade. It was full of uncertainties and hidden agendas. She was a mother now, and her instincts reeked of paranoia. She had to protect her child at all costs. She couldn't let her child suffer the kind of fate that her mother had been coaxed into or the life that she had lived herself. The thought of her daughter falling prey to the harsh realities of the world sent shivers down her spine. She was defenceless and tiny, and Mrinalini had to step up to protect the little angel that she had birthed.

"Mrinal, are you okay?" she heard Debarghya's voice break her chain of thoughts, startling her as she jumped, pressing her hand to her chest, her heart racing. "She's sleeping now, isn't she? Come out for a bit. Brishti and Riddhi would be leaving soon. Sreejit had called. He is on his way to pick them up. Rishi's also leaving for Bengaluru tomorrow. Come out and speak to them, would you? You can take some rest after having dinner. I ordered food. It should be here in 15 minutes."

"I am coming," Mrinalini told Debarghya. "I'll change and come. I had to clean the room."

"I am sorry," he replied sheepishly. "I tried to keep the room clean and organised, but there were too many things that the neighbours, my colleagues, and everyone else had been sending in. I couldn't keep up with everything."

"It's alright, Debarghya. It's all been managed now," she responded with a tired smile. "I'll be out there in five minutes."

...

 "I think you should wait for a few days for your grandmother's fever to subside before taking Medha to meet her," Debarghya said as Mrinalini sat by the edge of their bed, rocking their baby to sleep. "There is a chance that she can catch an infection. She is just a week old, and her immunity isn't great, as she has yet to be vaccinated."

"I am aware," she replied dryly, staring into the void. "Are you worried about something?" he asked her. "You have been very quiet and reclusive. I thought you'd be happier to be home."

"I am happy," Mrinalini replied with a small smile. "I am overwhelmed too, and a bit exhausted even though I haven't done anything extensive. It will pass, Debarghya."

Making her daughter settle down into the cot, Mrinalini sighed as she lay on the bed beside Debarghya, turning off the bedside lamp. Her back hurt slightly. She knew that it would take her some more time to recover physically, but it was the incessant storm of thoughts that sent her mind into overdrive.

"If I don't wake up when she cries, you'll wake me up, won't you?" Mrinalini asked Debarghya, turning to his side. "What if neither of us wakes up?'

"We will, Mrinal," Debarghya replied reassuringly. "She is sleeping less than 4 feet away from our bed. We are both light sleepers. She will be fine. You have a couple of bottles kept ready, don't you?"

She nodded. She had pumped her breast milk and stored a couple of bottles handy in case her daughter needed to be fed during the night.

"Get some sleep," she heard her husband murmur. "We won't be getting much of it for months to come. Relax your mind."

She hummed in response, absent-mindedly. "Are you sure there isn't something bothering you? Tell me, Mrinal."

Although he insisted, she refused to share the dark trail of thoughts that lingered in her mind, choosing instead to smile and say, "Can we afford a new washing machine, Debarghya? The one that we have is semi-automatic, and it requires more time and effort to wash. If we can buy an automatic washing machine, it would make my job easier. You know how difficult it gets with an infant. Do you remember right now I had to wash three sets of Riddhi's clothes and two bedsheets in one night once when he vomited and peed all over? That was just one night, and now we have so many more nights coming up. Can we get it?"

Debarghya chuckled. "Of course. We can buy any appliance with a simple downpayment and monthly instalments. Why didn't you tell me earlier if this bothered you all this while?"

"Our daughter and I had to stay at the hospital for a week, and I had a C-section. I know that we have medical insurance, but the expenses aren't all covered. How could I be insensitive and ask you about a teeny bit of luxury that so many women and new mothers do without?" she asked with a feeble smile, some guilt creeping into her heart, knowing that Debarghya wouldn't tell her even if it was going to be an unsolicited expenditure that would be a burden on him.

"Don't worry," he whispered. "Fortunately, Deepawali's around the corner. All electronic appliances are going to be on sale. We can easily get a nice washing machine for our home."

She smiled in the dark, her eyes fluttering close. A sense of calm washed over her. In the quiet solitude of the night, she found solace. The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was the soft rhythmic breathing of her daughter, a lullaby composed by nature, holding a promise of a new dawn.

Shrill cries and dirty diapers, sleepless nights, and constant paranoia would inevitably follow along with this beautifully called motherhood that she had embarked on. Yet, at that moment, as the baby slept peacefully, a tiny island of tranquillity in the vast ocean of uncertainty, she felt an overwhelming sense of contentment course through her heart and mind. Amidst the chaos that was yet to come, there was profound peace. For now, they were together in silence, two souls connected by an intangible and invisible thread, a bond forged in the crucible of love.

...

To be continued...

PUBLISHED ON: 27th July 2024

Author's note:

Hi everyone!

I hope you are doing well. Long time, I know, but I was struggling to write after the last chapter. I finally managed to put it together. There are three more chapters to go before Mrinalini's journey ends.

So, firstly, this chapter is dedicated to my baby sister, Srinika. She is two decades younger than me and is the family's first child after me. She is our world, and I love her so much. Please shower her with your blessings so she can grow up healthy, happy, and a good human being.

Now, for the chapter, I know that it doesn't go too much into the journey that Mrinalini has as a mother. Still, I wanted a particular segment dedicated to the early days of motherhood that are crucial for any woman, especially the signs of postpartum depression that seem all too normal but can potentially destroy a woman's internal resolve. A mother who suffers from demons from the past or in anticipation of the future, or one who is conscious of the weight gain and the change in appearance, isn't a bad mother but a human. When society glorifies motherhood, it often fails to recount the aspects where things are a little authentic, usually ugly and ignored, overshadowed by the facade of joy that the world coerces one to feel and believe.

The unsung lullabies that stay suppressed, lingering heavy in the permeable air, constitute a considerable part of a woman's journey to becoming a mother. I hope the chapter conveys what I wanted to share with you all.

As for the names, Debaparna's name has been inspired by one of my favourite individuals in the world. She is someone Wattpad helped me find, a soul sister I didn't know I needed.

@Priyadarshini2001 She has been with me since my initial days here as a writer when I started with Calming the Storm, and her words of wisdom and encouragement have been imperative to me. She is a good friend and confidante, and I have been so grateful to have been acquainted with her herein through Wattpad. Thank you, di, for everything. We may have never met, but the bond we have forged means so much more than what I can express via words. Love you <3

A massive shoutout to @jumentdefeu728
for suggesting the nickname Medha. 

Please do share your thoughts with me and help me improve in this journey as a writer. Thank you for reading Mrinalini. It means the world to me. Thanks for giving this story a chance and for your time and love.

In the end, take care and stay safe. 

Life is a long journey, so embrace each essence the journey offers.

Love,

Elegiac_Damsel

P.S. Please do stay along for the rest of the journey that awaits. 

P.P.S. Please VOTE, COMMENT, and SHARE if Mrinalini's story has struck a chord with you.