(Source : The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri)
Now she was alone, cut off by curtains from the three other women in the room. One woman's name was Breverly, as gathered from bits of conversation, another was Lois. Carol was to her left. "Goddamn it, goddamn you, this is hell," she heard one of them saying. And then a man' voice :"I love you sweet heart," words Ashima had neither heard nor expected to hear from her own husband ; this was not how they were. It was first time in her life she had slept alone, surrounded by strangers ; all her life she had slept either in a room with her parents, or with Ashoke at her side. She wished the the curtains were open, so that she could talk to the American women. Perhaps one of them who had given birth before, could tell her what to expect. But she had gathered that Americans, in spite of their public declaration of affection, in spite of their miniskirts and bikinis, in spite of their hand-holding on the street and lying on top of each other on the Cambridge Common, prefer their privacy. She used to spread her fingers over the taut, enormous drum her middle had become, wondering where the baby's feet and hands were at that moment. For the past few days, apart from the occasional flutter she had not felt either restlessness of the baby or its kick or punch or press against her ribs. She wondered if she was the only Indian person in the hospital, but a gentle twitch from her baby reminded her that she was, technically speaking,not alone. Ashima thought that it was strange that her child would be born in a place most people enter either to suffer or die. There was nothing to comfort her in the hospital in a foreign land. In India, she thought to herself,women go home to their parents to give birth, away from husbands and in-laws and household cares, retreating briefly to childhood when the baby arrives.
Another contraction began, more violent than the last. She cried out, pressing her head against the pillow, her fingers gripping the the chilly rails of the bed. She had been instructed to time the duration of the contractions and she used to see her watch, a bon voyage gift from her parents, slipped over her wrist the last time she saw them, amid airport confusion and tears It was not until she was on the plane flying for the first time in her life on a BOAC VC-10, whose deafening ascent at Dum Dum airport. She noticed the watch among the cavalcade of matrimonial bracelets on both her arms, and a plastic bracelet with a typed label identiffying her as a patient of the hospital
No comments:
Post a Comment