It was a cold, wintry night in 1989. The place: Bangalore. The wind outside shrieked and howled, the room felt positively glacial at 10°C. It felt like a harbinger of the joyful event shortly to follow. It had been close to eight hours, and the woman’s brow was damp with sweat, she writhed in pain but her face was stoic, her lips drawn tightly. She was trying to think positive thoughts. Her husband was away on assignment, she clasped the cold, clammy hands of her mother, drawing no comfort from it. She looked across the room to the slightly hulking figure of her father. She found it reassuring. Everything would be okay, as long as he was there. As if he had heard her unspoken thoughts, he turned around, and said to his wife, a diminutive woman of some sartorial elegance “I will get us coffee. I pray it shouldn’t take longer.” He smiled sympathetically at his daughter, and left the room.
After many hours of torment, she was fully dilated, and her efforts were rewarded around midnight, when a loud cry was heard through the hospital floor. I had burst forth into the world.
(How do I know all this? My greatest curiosity apart from the world around me and its inhabitants is my own journey. This, I shall attempt to explore some more through this blog. It will be a collection of free verse poetry, short fiction, my musings, rants and generally everything that will make me, and shape me.)