LANGUAGE – FOR LOVE OR HATRED?

JIGSAW PUZZLE

“ Waa…WAAAAH……”

The baby's cry was inconsolable, incessant and purely nerve-racking.  It had been going on for the past hour, and other patients in the ward were looking at me as if I was the terrorist who dropped this bomb here, their stares a thousand knives boring into my back. And as the resident in charge of the ward I was the wonder-woman empowered to solve ALL their problems. One well-meaning old gentleman came and told me, “Doctor madam, just give one injection to stop the wailing please.”  Hearing this, another commented, “Give something so that the baby will never cry again!” I scowled at him. Another wise greying grandmother offered this advice, “Madam! This baby probably has some ghost attack! We should call a priest and do puja.” I retorted, “Grandma! This baby is crying for his mother! As far as this hospital is concerned, only doctors are there to treat!”

I would say that Meenadevi was the most irresponsible mother I had seen in my life. Of course I had heard of parents who neglected or abandoned their babies, and the growing number of children in orphanages was obvious evidence. Meenadevi was an enigma – one could never tell if she loved her baby or hated him. Her unnamed baby was brought to our emergency room shortly after completing one month of age, with uncontrolled convulsions. He was the patient who taught me what a super-refractory status epilepticus was – severe convulsions controlled only by anesthesia! He was on ventilator for a prolonged duration and was diagnosed to have meningitis. After a stormy ICU course and miraculous survival, he was shifted to the step-down ward for completion of treatment. That was where I had a stint with Meenadevi. I was the resident in charge of the ward.

For one, Meenadevi was lazy to the point of being apathetic. Even if her baby brought the roof down with his hunger cries, she would continue her beauty sleep unperturbed. People on neighbouring beds had to wake her up with violent measures to feed her baby. But the moment the trolley bringing free food came near her ward, she would jump out of the bed with her steel plate and invariably ace the “food queue”, three times a day. Her highly selective biological clock amazed me! She was too lazy to carry her baby around. At times, she used to feed her baby with such loathing that if one didn’t see the tiny human hidden in the blanket, her facial expression would force one to think that she was feeding a baby skunk! She used to imitate and try to quieten the baby by telling, “what waa waa!! Just shut up and drink!”

Also, Meenadevi was adamant. Once I found her bottle feeding the two-month old baby with thick ragi porridge. The responsible doctor that I was, I rebuked her and threw the bottle in the dustbin. The next day with excessive humility and hidden pride I informed the consultant about how I advised her against porridge and threw away the bottle. The consultant suddenly removed the blanket off the baby, and there he was, silently sucking the same ragi porridge in the same pathetic bottle. How I wished that I could disappear like how Meenadevi did several times a day! I was furious at her for the next few days.

As already mentioned, Meenadevi was the metaphor of irresponsibility and incautiousness. Several times a day, she left the baby on the bed and disappeared. Apparently, she went to take bath and wash clothes, which I had to believe, since she had nobody to help. Meanwhile the baby used to create utter chaos in the ward. Many patients requested and changed their wards. How I wished I could change the ward! People used to question and shout at her initially, but her wild and sharp tongue rested the case almost immediately.

I was alarmed when some caring mothers in the ward told me how the baby fell a few times from the bed at night. And they woke her at times to take the baby from the floor. Mostly they themselves picked up the baby and kept him back on the bed, since the sleeping beauty refused to stir. Thankfully, an ultrasound scan confirmed that the tiny brain was in one piece, and the X-ray established that his bones were intact.  Every time I questioned her regarding neglecting the baby, I got a piece of her mind, sharpened by her razor-sharp tongue. She made multiple excuses, which I could never confirm. And strangely, we never saw any kith or kin visiting her throughout the long hospital stay. It would be unfair if I didn’t tell that I was not even sure if her name was Meenadevi!  And I should also not forget to mention that at times she cleaned her baby, played with him and covered him in kisses delightfully. What an incomprehensible and complex character she was!

Meenadevi's baby had few more health issues during the ward stay and was not gaining adequate weight. We kept tackling them one by one. We weren’t ready to give up so easily even if the mother was not convinced. The baby was alive because of humongous hard work by the ICU doctors and some definite supernatural miracle. However, one day, Meenadevi decided to take the baby and leave. We counselled her as best as we could. Apparently, she wanted to take care of her other child and was tired of staying in the hospital. I stifled my anger at her for putting me down in front of the consultant almost every day and requested her to complete treatment, but in vain. Who could convince Meenadevi- she was queen adamance in all her magnificence!

I really could not ascertain Meenadevi or her problems. Not me, not anybody else. She refused to tell anything about herself, and she rejected sympathy. “Attitude unlimited” would be an ideal quote defining her!  Irksome as she was, we knew she had some social problems and we wanted to help her, but she would not budge. I could never imagine how a mother could care so less for the child she bore and got back again through something akin to a second birth. A mother`s love is the highest form of mortal love, but could even that be so undependable? Maybe her character was a result of a troubled childhood or abuse. Or it could have been an unhappy marriage or marital abuse. Or maybe it was poverty and exploitation. Or it was an unwanted pregnancy. Whatever it was, it definitely took a toll on her. On the day she left, we finally saw her husband, a weather-beaten, emaciated, manual labourer who came just to carry the bags to the bus-stop and did not bother to talk to anyone.

We half-expected to see Meenadevi come back with a sick baby in the coming days, but she never came back. We tried to locate them at their address through the peripheral health care system, but they had moved out from there long back. The mobile phone number she had provided was switched off. Meenadevi had disappeared from our radar, never to be seen again. We could only pray that another miracle would change her into a responsible and caring mother.

 Some people we meet are like jigsaw puzzles. While solving them, we begin to see something that was there all the time, but hidden from us. Likewise, Meenadevi helped me to fathom this verse from the Bible, “Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you!” (Isaiah 49:15 NIV) – which is a strong reminder that divine love is higher than the highest form of mortal love. We can boast of love here on earth, in all its multifarious forms, but it is no match for that love which is unconditional. We can only hope that our hidden and manifest selfishness (read self-love), will not discourage us from the higher calling to love and to be loved. Can we respond to this calling?