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Showing posts from July, 2009

We Knew

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It was our three-month ultrasound. We thought it would be like the movies, where you look at an ultra hi-def screen and the baby is crystal clear. It felt like a big moment. I had left work early that afternoon and was hoping to get back quickly. After all, it was just a routine visit, or so I thought. We checked in and were shown into the examination room. The nurse asked Hema to lie down on the bed. She applied gel and began moving the probe across her abdomen, looking for a heartbeat. Her reaction made us realize something was wrong. Hema and I looked at each other. The nurse didn't say anything. She simply said she would be back in a minute. We knew. The doctor came in, repeated the scan, and after a few moments told us that he was unable to detect a heartbeat. It was one of the lowest points of our lives. Three months in, we had already started imagining birthdays, schools, and family vacations. When you experience a miscarriage, it feels as ...

A typical conversation - Part II

It didn't take a long time to realize that we were running out of topics. The normal conversation had turned into a speechless routine after the customary exchanges. Appa: So, how are things at your end? Me: Good! Appa: Are you taking care of yourself? Me: Yes, no issues! Appa: Eat properly, and if you need anything, let me know. Me: Yeah, OK! Appa: OK, I will give the phone to your mother. Me: OK! It was a case of the early years of my stay away from home. Beyond the usual exchanges, the conversation would gain pace once the telephone instrument was passed on to my mother. Amma: Ennada, what are you upto? Me: Nothing, just busy with exams and research. Amma: Enna research? You better take care of your health. What did you eat today? Me: I was busy the whole day, so just ended up eating curd rice and vadu maanga (mango pickle). Amma: OK, take care of your health. By the way, that girl in our neighborhood, xyz , is getting married. Me: What? Really? When did this happen? Amma: I...

Anandhi...

Srinivasan got ready for the afternoon siesta after his usual laborious lunch; laborious, not because there was something special for lunch, but just that, his meticulousness always ensured that everything was laid out in front of him in elaborate detail. A few extra micro particles of salt would leave him in great despair, as though Susila had committed a grave irrevocable sin. What have you done, Susi? He would shout from the hall, as she would disappear countless times into the kitchen at the time of serving. In spite of having been married for the last thirty six years, she would run back in panic, with a few wrinkles appearing on her forehead "What happened? Have I added more salt in the sambhar today?" Srinivasan would look up and say "Yes, the sambhar tastes like salt water today." Oh, I thought so. I was talking with Lakshmi, and somehow, a few, more than normal, slipped out of my hand. Please adjust today. Corrective measures will be taken by dinner....