Strength to Say No (5 page)

My sister was devastated. Me, too. I wanted it to live. Baba took care of having the body cremated. None of us was permitted to attend the cremation.

Today my sister gave birth to another baby who lived for only a few hours. The midwives admit to being afraid for Josna's health. They have never seen so many complications during childbirth. They congratulate Josna on having survived the ordeal. My sister goes to the temple of Krishna to thank the god for sparing her life. Badhari makes a donation to the temple so that the avatar of Vishnu may make the coming of their next child easier.

But the gods remained deaf to the young man's requests. The third childbirth was as terrifying as the previous ones. After
several hours of pain and cries and tears my sister gave birth to a stillborn baby. Josna seemed unconscious. My mother shook her while shouting prayers and begging the gods to let her keep her daughter. Once again Josna was near death, but she had barely recovered when the problems began again. Badhari's parents judged her unsuitable for motherhood and consequently not worthy to be the wife of their son. They came in person to ask that the couple separate so that their youngest son could marry a fertile woman capable of bearing a child.

‘Take your daughter back! We don't want her any more!'

The discussion was heated. The two mothers argued ferociously. The first defended her son's right to have an heir. Ma replied that her daughter was perfectly normal and that she would not let Badhari divorce Josna nor ruin her life and her chances to have a child and start a family. A compromise was achieved after several hours of negotiations: Josna would go to go to see a doctor to find out whether she had a natural malformation preventing her from giving birth properly, the expense payable by Baba to be the equivalent of one week's work. Once the results were known Badhari would have to decide if he wanted to stay with Josna or to separate from her. While they were waiting Josna must return to live at home.

These days are the longest for the family. All my father's money goes for the medical examination. He is up to his neck in debts. Baba doesn't manage to earn enough to buy food. He begs at the doors of the villagers and comes back only with starchy liquid, the water in which the neighbours have boiled their rice.

The doctor's verdict is issued after a few weeks – Josna is perfectly normal. He has detected no malformation. On the
other hand her age poses a problem: she is too young to give birth. The parents are relieved. Armed with this indisputable diagnosis Baba and Ma go to see Badhari's family and beg them to forget about the divorce. But the young husband considers that he has been patient enough. In spite of his attraction to Josna he must leave her and find another wife. My sister, in one last effort to save her marriage, begs her husband not to abandon her. She implores him to let her have one more chance. Badhari is touched and decides that my sister is after all not at fault, that he should face his destiny rather than blame Josna. He asks his parents to accept her as she is.

But fate won't leave them alone. Although the couple decide not to make a baby right away Josna falls pregnant again. During her whole pregnancy she goes regularly to the temple of Krishna and conserves her strength by staying in bed. She gave up her work in the brick factory. To compensate for the lost income she rolls bidis all day long. The wages are less, but they allow us to buy rice and some vegetables.

At the birth it's a drama again. Josna again has a stillborn baby. Rumours circulate in the village. The neighbours talk about a curse, a bad karma. I take my sister in my arms while she is still covered with sweat. I whisper to her that now she must give up on having a child if she is not to lose her life.

She stays in bed for several days in a tiny room that is also used as a kitchen at the in-laws'. The situation gets complicated. Must she renounce maternity or simply marriage? I am extremely sad for Josna; her face was rounded and beautiful before, but now it looks emaciated.

One wintry morning Josna again prepares to give birth. Sheer madness, according to some of our neighbours, who are
convinced that this time she is going to die. My sister is anxious and stressed, but she has to give birth to this child at the risk of losing her life. Her shouts and sobs of pain attract the attention of the entire neighbourhood. After interminable hours of labour Debu is born (‘little god' in Hindi). I am in the courtyard, and I pray for him to live for a long time.

Panicked by the piercing sound of the horn the herd ran off in all directions. The van manoeuvres with great difficulty among this mass of flesh. It tries to force its way through while the shepherd tries to get his animals together again with the help of a stalk of bamboo and incomprehensible sounds. A young calf dashes across just in front of the vehicle to cower against its mother on the other side of the road. The van brakes sharply and the driver shouts at the farmer, but the farmer ignores him as he is busy threatening one of his cows with his staff. Badhari tries to protect himself from the tide of animals whose chaotic behaviour frightens all the villagers gathered at the crossing of the main road and the country road that leads to the hamlet of Sampur.

For some weeks now the men have been returning to the village every evening in a group after several of them were attacked. The thieves take advantage of the half-light of dusk to rob the foolhardy men who risk coming home alone with wages in their pockets along the lane, five kilometres in length, that separates the main road from the house. My brother-in-law has already been robbed at knifepoint. For this reason the villagers now wait for each other in front of the statue of the Hindu god Hanuman set up at the side of the main road, where the public lighting and some traders discourage bandits. The police refuse to intervene in this area after dark, mainly for fear
of being the target of attacks by groups of Maoists. This security vacuum has been to the advantage of the bandits, who do not hesitate to abuse the villagers and to relieve the workers of their daily or weekly pay, however small it may be.

The men go alongside the little pond, then beside some fields before starting on the long path that leads to the village. They walk fast; they have to get to the washhouse at the edge of the hamlet of Sampur in less than an hour, before it gets pitch dark. During the trip they exchange the latest news about this or that employer looking for workers for a one-off job. It's also the time to share news about one's family and to hear other people's news.

When he gets home Badhari slips the money he's earned into my sister's hands and puts the plastic shopping bag down on the bed. There are one hundred and fifty rupees, some vegetables and some dry biscuits for Debu.

‘We have to take the baby to the temple,' murmurs Badhari, out of breath from the hour of walking as well as a day of labour.

‘When?' replies Josna as she puts away the tomatoes and the onions at the foot of the bed, just next to some tin plates and the ashes of the hearth.

‘He's going to be almost six months old, and it's time for him to wear a new talisman, a
tabij
.' Josna raises her sari and gives her breast to Debu.

‘He's eating better and better, and I have plenty of milk. Everything is going well for the time being, but you're right, I'd be happier if he wore a new
tabij
.'

‘Tomorrow he will be even more protected than he is today, and so on for the rest of his life.'

Whenever I have the chance I go to stay with Josna and Badhari for a few days. The in-laws don't have any objection to it, and I have learned to make myself useful, especially in helping my sister take care of Debu. My nephew is actually very well protected: he wears a
tabij
, a
kabach
and two
maduri
. The one around his calf carries the blessing of both the moon and the sun – in other words, physical health and internal peace. As for the silk string braided around his waist it allows the body to absorb the nourishment it takes in.

Each of the bracelets on his wrists comes from a scrap merchant in Purulia, but these amulets have undergone a special ritual so that they can act effectively. The bracelet on the upper arm where a little cylinder is attached is meant to keep away the negative waves sent out by wandering souls desperate for nourishment. The
kabach
is used to surmount all the difficulties to come. In case of illness or injury Debu will get well quickly and heal more easily. His destiny will be free of dangerous or fatal events.

Since the birth of Debu his parents have been anxious and fear that he may suffer the same fate as the earlier babies. They follow all the advice that the elders can lavish on them. They go to the temple frequently and fulfil their obligations by making offerings and surrounding their son with lucky charms. If Debu should ever die neither of his parents would ever get over it. The baby who was so wished for is surrounded by affection and by precautions. I look after him with the greatest care – after all, my sister raised me from my earliest days while my parents were working from dawn to dusk in the rice paddies.

The time has come to celebrate the ritual of Annaprasan, which marks the moment when babies can take solid food. Josna and Badhari give up the idea of having a party, as is the tradition. They don't have enough money; my brother-in-law's work is barely enough to feed his family. We go to the temple with only the closest relatives: my parents and Badhari's parents, Badhari's his brothers and their children, as well as my brothers and sisters. Other children from the village also join in the ceremony. The Hindu priest recites a
puja
to the gods Krishna and Shiva. He invites the senior males to feed Debu with a ball of rice mixed with milk and sugar. There are several clay pots that contain a pen, a book, metal bracelets and soil. What Debu chooses will determine his future. He plunges his hand into the bracelets. Josna smiles. They symbolize good health and a long life.

Every morning Badhari gets up at dawn and leaves on an empty stomach for Purulia. When he gets to the rickshaw station he has to queue up like a hundred other people.