A Better Tomorrow | Eva Bell

Dr. Shoba Bhandari was reluctant to leave her chambers even though it was well past 9 P.M., and the rest of the staff had all gone home. She released the clip that held her hair in a ponytail and curls cascaded down to her shoulder, framing her ecstatic face. Her eyes sparkled with joy as she treated herself to an exciting spin in her swivel chair, three times around.

“I’ve done it, I’ve done it,” she thought, gloating over the fact that she was to be awarded the Padma Shri for her service to humanity. “I’ve come a long way and have worked pretty hard all these years and I deserve a national recognition. No one can begrudge me this achievement.”

Destiny, however, had played its part in directing her life and leading her to the acme of her career.

Shoba had just completed her matriculation when she was married off to a wealthy agriculturist. His vast estate spanned several hundred acres in coastal Karnataka. Rice fields, coconut groves, arecanut plantations had brought him both wealth and fame. He was generous to a fault and his tenants adored him. They prayed that the pretty young girl who had come as his bride would bring him happiness.

Just a month after their marriage, a picnic was planned along with relatives, to St. Mary’s Island off the coast of Malpe. But, that morning when they were to set out, Shoba got her periods. Custom demanded that she had to be segregated for three days. It was too late to cancel the picnic.

“Don’t look so sad dear,” Kiran her husband consoled her. “We will have a picnic all by ourselves after a week or two.”

The picnickers were on their way home from the island that evening, when a gusty squall followed by thunder showers capsized the boat they were travelling in, taking them all to a watery grave. Rescue operations could not be carried out as heavy showers with thunder and lightning continued late into the night.

“My son has gone,” wailed Kiran’s mother, beating her chest. “This girl has brought bad luck to our house.”

“Be quiet,” shouted his father, “Can you not understand the grief and pain this young girl is going through? Married for a month and widowed for life! I wouldn’t even wish my enemy such bad luck.”

Though Gopal Bhandari was not a highly educated man, he was neither superstitious nor narrow minded. “I must do the best for the girl,” he thought, “She must not be allowed to suffer all her life. What a terrible blow Fate has dealt her.”

According to their custom, Shoba returned to her natal home after the thirteenth day ceremony. His heart went out to this young girl who was stripped of all her jewellery, her forehead bare, and shrouded in an ugly maroon sari, the sign of her widowhood.

“Be brave my child,” he said gently. “We are not going to abandon you. In a few days’ time I’ll come over and speak to your father. Together, we will decide on your future.”

Shoba was distraught. Though her father-in-law had always been kind to her, she could not say that about her mother-in-law.

“I don’t understand why she hates me. If I remember right, she was the one who came home with the proposal of marriage for Kiran.”

“Not to worry, child,” consoled her mother, “She has to pin the blame for the tragedy on someone. She can’t blame the Gods lest they strike her down too. She’s found a convenient scapegoat in you. Let her grieve now. She’ll think differently as time goes by.”

Gopal Bhandari kept his promise. After a respectful one month, he came accompanied by his lawyer.

“Shoba will not suffer financially,” he assured her parents. “As Kiran’s wife she is entitled to his property. She can come and stay with us and learn how to manage his affairs.”

Shoba who was listening behind the curtain dashed out.

“Appa let me continue my studies. You are there to look after Kiran’s property. Someday I want to be able to support myself. I don’t want to be bothered about business or property. In fact, it was Kiran’s wish that I should continue my studies after marriage.”

“No. No,” Shoba’s mother said, “What will people say? A young widow gallivanting around and given so much freedom?”

Shoba’s father intervened. “I like the idea of our girl pursuing her studies. Can we think about it for a few days? I’m sure we can convince Shoba’s mother that education is best for our daughter. Colleges open only in July. So we still have some time.”

“Thank you Appa,” Shoba said gracefully, and bent down to touch her father-in-law’s feet.

“God bless you my child,” he said, placing his hand on her head in blessing.

Shoba began to pursue her studies at St. Agnes College in Mangalore. Later, she studied Medicine at the Kasturba Medical College in Manipal. Gopal Bhandari saw to all her expenses. After her graduation as a doctor he asked, “Would you like to start your own practice? I can look out for a nice clinic for you.”

“Not yet Appa. I’m still very raw and inexperienced. I’d like to study further.”

“No one will stand in your way my girl,” he said, tapping her on her shoulder.

“Then let me go abroad and do my post-graduation in Gynaecolgy and Obstetrics. I’ll apply to different hospitals in the U.K. and get a placement somewhere.”

Shoba left for England in 1974. She had secured a place for her clinical attachment at Walsgrave Hospital, Coventry. The Consultants were quite impressed by her intelligence and diligence.

“Such a young widow! We must give her all the help she needs,” one Consultant Mr. Coulston declared. “She can stay on at our hospital at least for the first six months. Then we’ll decide whether we want to renew her contract,”

Most house officers received contracts lasting six to twelve months before being encouraged to broaden their experience at other hospitals. But Shoba continued to work at Walsgrave until she cleared her Primary Membership exams. By now she gained considerable experience in her chosen field.

“I’ll talk to my Consultant friends in Manchester and see if they can employ you in one of their hospitals until you finish your post-graduation,” Mr. Coulston promised.

When Shoba secured a job at the Oldham and District Hospital in Manchester, she hadn’t the slightest inkling that she would be a senior house officer under the tutelage of the big burly smiling Consultant Mr. Patrick Steptoe, the pioneer of In Vitro fertilization. The man was a good teacher and the sincerity of this young doctor impressed him.

Shoba learnt a lot about Infertility and Assisted Reproductive Technology, like the induction of ovulation through hormone injections to produce multiple eggs, the harvesting of these ova under ultrasound guidance, so that they could be used for IVF. It was fascinating to watch how these ova were treated with spermatozoa and transferred to a nutrient medium and put in a specialized IVF incubator. If the male patient suffered from a poor sperm count, it was possible to directly inject sperm into the eggs. Two to five days later, the fertilized ovum was transferred into the woman’s uterus. Pregnancy was expected within fourteen days and confirmed by a pregnancy test or high hormonal levels.

Embryos that were not used were stored in cryo-preservatives, then sealed and packed in medical straws in liquid nitrogen at a temperature of minus 196 degrees for further use if necessary.

Shoba was working at this hospital when the first IVF baby was born on 26^th July 1978. With the birth of Louise Brown, the fame of Dr. Steptoe and his embryologist Dr. Edwards made headlines all over the world. She worked there for two more years before she came back to India in 1981. She had gained sufficient knowledge in Assisted Reproductive Technology (ART), and wanted to establish her own hospital.

“Appa,” she told her father-in-law, “I don’t want to work in South Kanara where everyone knows the family. I’d like to practice in a city where people are more open to new techniques and are more inclined to spend more money.”

Gopal Bhandari was quick to fall in with her wishes.

“Where would you like to practice? Bombay, Bangalore or Delhi?”

“I think Bombay will be the best place Appa. Everything exciting happens there. It is also the commercial hub of India.”

Gopal Bhandari lost no time in calling his many friends in Bombay to find a suitable place.

“It must be a sophisticated, upscale area and nowhere near a slum,” he instructed. “My daughter-in-law would like to set up her own hospital. She has come back with a foreign degree. She is very intelligent and incredibly innovative.”

The spot chosen was very near the Iskon Temple in Juhu. Only the rich and the famous lived in that neighbourhood. The owner of a small plot was persuaded to sell his property for more than the market rate,

“Money may not make you happy,” he said to Shoba, “But it is a comfort to have enough. Your hospital will be ready within the next six months.”

“Appa, I don’t want you to build a massive concrete multi-storeyed building like a hospital. I want a rambling bungalow with many spacious and airy rooms, set in a beautiful garden. It should have a friendly inviting façade where patients will feel at ease the moment they step into the building.”

“I thought you would prefer something majestic, which would create a good impression on patients and their relatives. I guess your sojourn abroad has refined your tastes. If only my son were alive to rejoice in the achievements of his smart wife!” he sighed.

Shoba felt a twinge of conscience. She could hardly recall the face of the man who was her husband for only a month. She bristled up when she heard the old man say, “I would be happy to give you in marriage to a suitable groom, if you will just say the word. You’re still very young and have a lifetime before you.”

“Appa, I told you many times that I don’t want to marry again,” she reiterated her disinterest in remarriage. “God wanted me to be a widow and I’m happy to remain single and put my medical knowledge to good use. I can bring happiness to many young couples who have difficulty producing children. In fact, I feel privileged to do so.”

The building when constructed look nothing like a hospital. The bungalow’s friendly façade would put patients at ease. The garden with its riot of flowers and shady arbours offered a calm, inviting atmosphere. It worried Shoba that her mother-in-law still harboured animosity towards her and would not share in her excitement or even come for the inaugural function.

Shoba had made up her mind that she would focus purely on gynaecology, making the subject of infertility her forte. As days went by, the number of patients visiting the hospital grew. They came to her with various gynaecological complaints. As her clientele increased, she spread the word through her staff and patients who visited, that she would like to be known as a specialist in the treatment of infertility. Word soon spread that this foreign returned doctor had specialized in the treatment of infertility.

Many came to her for medication, with both males and females submitting to investigations. Apart from the routine laboratory tests, women underwent laparoscopy to rule out pathology in their uterus, tubes and ovaries. Shoba gave them information about artificial insemination with husband’s sperm. To those who didn’t conceive this way, she recommended artificial insemination with a donor sperm. She started a sperm bank. Young students with the hope of making some pocket money gladly came to donate semen. Autorickshaw drivers, mechanics, clerks, men from all walks of life donated sperm for a quick buck. Shoba was choosy. She chose only the fittest as donors – young, healthy men from the upper strata of society were registered as donors. The rest were sent away. Every donor had to pass through a series of investigations to rule out infections and communicable diseases like TB and HIV. They were also tested for Diabetes, hypertension, and any other genetic disorders in members of their family. She restricted the frequency at which they could donate sperm.

Shoba’s clientele was growing. Many women conceived after receiving injections for ovulation. Others became pregnant through artificial insemination through husband’s or donor’s sperm.

“Go to Dr. Shoba. She’ll help you get pregnant. Her treatment is more effective than pilgrimages or temple hopping.”

Women not just from Bombay but from outlying areas too came for treatment.

It was now time to promote in vitro fertilization. Setting up an IVF lab had cost her father-in-law a fortune. So she had to succeed.

“I must be the first gynaecologist in Bombay to start this procedure. Of course the success rate is still not very high worldwide. I will have to convince the patients that they would have to take the risk. I will certainly insist on them giving their informed consent on proper consent forms. The procedure is very expensive and I don’t want them to ask for compensation if it fails.”

Nina and Thimmy had been married for three years. There was pressure from relatives on one hand and their own biological longings on the other. Thimmy knew that his low sperm count wsas the reason for their infertility. He decided to keep the procedure a secret and give it a try.

Shoba Bhandari spent a lot of time with them advising, counselling, allaying their fears and building up their confidence. By now she had practiced how to peddle her skills and present her sales pitch. She was desperate to be successful in her field and here was a couple who volunteered for IVF.

“I wish we had come to you earlier,” sighed Nina. “You won’t believe that two educated people like us could fall for the deception of a Swami in Puttur. We heard that many had gone to him for treatment and were blessed with a child.”

“Actually I should take the blame” said Thimmy. “My friend introduced me to this holy man who ran a Facilitation Centre (Garbha Kendra.) He put us on medication for 90 days.”

“Very expensive concoctions at that,” interrupted Nina. “He said it was for purification of our energy channels and genital organs. During this period the male sperm and the female ovum would be purified of all genetic defects, and after 90 days, I would conceive. He said our infertility could be due to some demonic curse.”

Shoba burst out laughing.

“How gullible can you be? Have you complained about this charlatan to the police?”

“He’s supposed to be a holy man with a multitude of followers. Besides, we couldn’t risk being cursed by him.”

Shoba took pains to explain in detail the whole procedure.“I will only use one embryo for implantation. The rest will be stored for future use. I can’t assure you that you will conceive with the first attempt,” she said to Nina. “You may need to have a second or even a third implantation.”

But in the third month, in spite of all precautions never to overwork or tire herself, Nina saw the tell-tale signs of a miscarriage. As Thimmy had a travelling job, he was often away from home. Nina had to bear her grief alone. “Don’t worry Darling. Dr. Shoba warned us that we might have to undergo two or three instillations. We’ll try again after six months.”

Unfortunately, the second time too ended in failure. They were both depressed but Dr. Shoba was encouraging.

“Third time you will be lucky. I’ll repeat the whole process again but this time instead of using old embryos, I will use fresh specimens of your ova and sperm.”

To their great relief and happiness, the pregnancy continued. Dr. Shoba assured them from the scan that all was well this time. As Nina was to have rest, Thimmy decided to send her home to her parents where she would be well cared for. Dr. Shoba too was confident that Nina would have a normal delivery.

Except for some nausea and vomiting in the early months, the pregnancy progressed well. Nina registered at a local Maternity Hospital under the care of Dr. Geetha Rai. This was a small maternity hospital with about fifty beds but was always full. Dr. Geetha had been practising there for many years. She was well known in the community and the locals preferred to go to her rather than to the government hospital which was known for its indifference to patients.

Nina had regular antenatal check-ups and received what medicines and injections were necessary. Geetha was satisfied with the progress and growth of the foetus.

II

Nina opened her eyes and blinked. She had been sedated post-operation and the drug was gradually beginning to wear off.

“Where am I?” she asked the green robed figure bending over her. “Where’s Thimmy?”

But even before the nurse could answer, she drifted back to sleep.

“Thank God I don’t have to answer her questions.” the young nurse sighed. She would be off duty in another few minutes and someone else would have to handle this She was a junior nurse and was still not comfortable breaking bad news to patients. Besides, what she had seen in the theatre would give her nightmares for several days.

A shudder ran through her. “I don’t think I’ll be brave enough to have a baby of my own.” she thought. “What if it turns out to be as hideous as the child that was delivered by Caesarean section?”

She could still hear the raucous cry of the creature as it echoed through the theatre. Someone had wrapped it in a towel and fled before Nina could wake up and ask for her child.

“What was it?” she wondered, “A freak or a demon or an animal?”

In the paediatric nursery the doctors and nurses crowded around the infant. They had never seen anything like this before and were anxious to know more about the child. The revulsion they felt was indescribable.

The senior doctor said, “This is a case of severe Ichthyosis – a full-fledged Harlequin Baby. Notice the horn rimmed mouth and teeth. The ears, the eyes, the penis and limbs are abnormally contracted, the toes are curving inwards and the fists are clenched.”

With a thin glass rod, he lifted a few white plaques of skin. The entire body was covered with yellowish brown plaques having deep cracks in between. The child would not stop crying. It had a loud high pitched cry that carried through the wards.

“Is this baby going to live? Have the parents seen it as yet?” someone asked.

“It’s best that the mother doesn’t see it,” said the doctor, “But I will have to show it to the father and other relatives.”

He cleared the room of all the doctors and nurses.

“Could someone send in the father?”

Thimmy walked in anxious to see his child. But one look at it and he nearly dropped to the floor.

“Sit down Sir. I’ll explain.”

“No, no, I don’t want another glimpse of the creature. It is a demon. Kill it Doctor. You have my permission to kill it before it begins to grow and kill everybody else. Stop its screaming please.”

He bolted out of the door.

“Wait, wait, It’s not a demon,” the doctor called after him.

No one saw Thimmy again. He did not even wait to see his wife.

The screaming continued for well over an hour, before the obstetrician, the paediatrician and other doctors met to decide the child’s future.

“It can’t survive for very long. It will die,” someone said.

“But we can’t wait indefinitely. Patients and their relatives in the wards are asking questions. Soon they will be surrounding the nursery wondering what was happening inside.”

It was a joint decision to inject the muscle relaxant Scoline into the child to silence it forever. Several photographs were taken to add to their collection of abnormal babies. The paediatrician would soon write a paper on Harlequin Ichthyosis and send it for publication to a Journal of Paediatrics.

Nina was shifted to a private room in the Maternity Ward.

“Where’s Thimmy?” she asked. “Tell him I want to see him. Has he seen the baby? I want to see it too. Is it a boy or a girl?”

“I’ll see if I can find your husband,” said the nurse, escaping from the room.

Thimmy was nowhere to be found. Nina’s parents arrived few hours later as they had gone to a neighbouring town to attend a function. Shocked beyond belief at the sight of the baby, they requested that the body be disposed off by the hospital.

Nina was relieved to see her parents.

“Thimmy hasn’t come to see me,” she complained, tears streaming down her eyes, “And they haven’t even shown me the baby.”

“He’s very small and very sick my darling. They have to keep him in NICU till he gets stronger,” they consoled her.

No one knew that this was an IVF baby. As the couple was living in Bombay because of Thimmy’s job, they had chosen the prestigious ART Centre which was patronized by many well-known and influential people. Besides, Shoba Bhandari also belonged to South Kanara.

On the third day when the nurse brought in a roll of jasmine and tied it firmly around her breasts with a binder, she knew that the child was no more. She was also given some tablets to stop lactation.

“He’s gone,” she mourned, “And I never even got to see the little fellow. I wonder if Thimmy is blaming me for his death and is very angry.”

“Don’t be so sad darling. You’re both very young and can still many more children,” said her mother.

On the day of her discharge Dr Geetha spent a good half hour alone with Nina, consoling and counselling her.

“There may have been some genetic problem with the child. It could not survive. I suggest you don’t attempt another pregnancy until you both undergo genetic studies and meet with a genetic counsellor. At present, these tests are conducted in very few cities. But as you live in Bombay there may be a centre there. I would sincerely advise you not to rush into another pregnancy. You’ve had two miscarriages and this child could not survive.”

Nina was too depressed to talk. The secret of their IVF pregnancy was only between her, Thimmy and Dr. Shoba.

“I wish I can curl up somewhere and die.”

Nina’s father was a lawyer by profession. He had rude words for Dr. Geetha.

“Doctor, Nina has been coming to you regularly for check-ups. How come you did not diagnose that the child was abnormal and terminate the pregnancy in the early stages?”

“Sir, I had no cause to suspect anything abnormal. The growth of the child was okay, and Nina had no complaints or medical problems.”

“Wouldn’t an X-ray have shown abnormalities?”

“I did not feel the need for unnecessary X-rays. This is a district hospital and we have none of those new-fangled gadgets like ultrasound. This is 1984 and it will probably take a few more years for us to buy such a machine. It is now your duty to give her all the support she needs during this period of acute grief. I would like to have a talk with her husband when he is available.”

“I am a lawyer. I could make trouble for you,” he threatened.

Geetha was furious. What arrogance! She had a good mind to chew the old man’s head off.

“Do what you want to do Sir,” she mumbled, hoping that he would never come to know that the howling infant had been given a shot of Scoline by the paediatrician.

“Or better still, be magnanimous and donate an ultrasound machine to this hospital.

“It’s demonic – hideous! How could Nina produce such a creature? I think she has been possessed by a demon. No, no, I cannot live with her anymore. The picture of that baby will haunt me for life”

He was in tears, sobbing as though his heart would break.

“I want to go as far from Nina as I can. I don’t want to see her, let alone touch her.”

III

Thimmy rushed home from the hospital, his brows knit together in a frown. Thimmy was usually not easily flustered. But here he was, fleeing from the hospital as if the devil was in hot pursuit.

He had taken a few days leave and had come down from Bombay to be with Nina during her confinement. So he had just a small suitcase to pack. He dumped in his clothes, his bank book, cheque book, passport and camera. He felt Nina was possessed and he did not want anything to do with her. He couldn’t understand how he had developed this irrational fear.

“Just yesterday, things were normal and we were looking forward with great expectations to greet our precious child. But what I saw was not a child. It was a monster,” he sobbed as he hurried to the railway station and boarded a train to Madras. He diecide to got ot Port Blair and then decide what to do next.

From Madras, he took the first plane out to Port Blair. The flight was not full but even if it was, he could have wangled a seat on the strength of his identity card as a press reporter. Unfortunately, the woman sitting next to him was a chirpy young lady who wouldn’t stop talking. By the time they were making their descent to land, Thimmy had reached the limit of his endurance.

“Oh for goodness sake,” he begged, “Can’t a tired man be allowed to have a shut eye for a few minutes?”

“Look out of the window, young man,” she retorted, “Enjoy the breath taking beauty of the Emerald Islands – dense masses of greenery in aquamarine waters! How can you be so indifferent to such beauty? Look, look,” she said, tugging at his sleeve.

“Just leave me alone. I’ve come away to this place because I want to be alone.”

“If you’ve come to this place to mourn, this is a wrong place to be. Who gave you the idea that you could mourn with so much beauty around you? You should have gone off to the Himalayas.”

“Perhaps I should have,” Thimmy said sadly.

She gave him her card. It said, ‘Tina Williams, Photographer, National Geographic. “You can leave a message if I’m not there. I’m staying at the Megapode Nest in the heart of the city.”

Thimmy was sorry he had been so curt with her. She had actually made him forget his sorrows for a while.

Tina had described this hideout so well. There were hardly any people around.

The sun had set by 5.30 p.m. Thimmy fell into a deep sleep until sunbeams danced on his face and woke him up. He looked at his watch: 5 a.m.

“Well, at least I’ve had eleven hours of sleep.” he thought and turned on his side to block out the light streaming in through the window. But he was wide awake now and his thoughts turned to Nina.

“How did all this happen? Dr. Shoba had assured us that all would be well. She said the early scan had shown that the sac had properly implanted and was growing satisfactorily. Only then did she permit Nina to go home to Mangalore. Nina had been under the constant supervision of Dr. Geetha Rai. She had assured us that the child was growing normally. So when did it turn into a monster? South Kanara is full of demon spirits. We have a resident bhuta in our house. I know how he has to be periodically propitiated by my father. Something must have angered the spirit. Perhaps some formality had been skipped. Did my father stint on demands made by the spirit?”

A grand ceremony had had been conducted for Nina in her seventh month. It took place in Thimmy’s ancestral house after which she was sent to her natal home for delivery.

“Something must have gone wrong there,” Thimmy thought. “The evil spirit must have entered into her and the child at this juncture. I want nothing to do with her. I wonder if Nina will be possessed for life. Can she be exorcised?”

After two days of voluntary isolation Thimmy decided to make the best of his holiday in Andamans.

“I need to snap out of my melancholy before I sink into deep depression.”

He borrowed a tourist brochure from the office of the resort. Thimmy called for a taxi to take him to Joggers’ Park.

The sun had already started its journey towards the horizon. This was a beautifully laid out flower garden with broad footpaths for evening walkers. Thimmy occupied a vacant bench when he was tired of walking. The cool evening breeze was exhilarating. Then at one end of the garden, he spotted a familiar figure. She was kneeling in front of a rose bush, her camera focused on a bumble bee darting in and out of the flowers.

On turning around, she spied him and waved in greeting. Then she came over to where he was seated.

“I see you have come out of your self-imposed isolation. Good for you.” She sat down beside him. “For how long will you be staying here?”

“I still have a little over a week to go.”

“Then make the best use of it. I’ll chaperone you around so that you don’t miss out on anything worth seeing. I told you that I know these islands like the back of my hand. Isn’t it time we introduced ourselves properly? You already know who I am.”

“I’m Sumeeth Shetty, reporter for the Urbania Times – at present on leave. You can call me Thimmy. That’s all you need to know.”

“How rude! As though I’m bothered about delving into your history. We’ve said ‘Hi’ and at the end of this trip we’ll say ‘bye.’ Is that okay with you?”

“Now that you’ve made it clear, this suits me fine.”

For the next two days they were visiting one island or another. At first it was the Jolly Buoy where Tina forced him to go snorkelling. Next day it was to the Havelock Island famous for adventure tourism. The view of the water was gorgeous – crystal clear in different shades of green. In this calm atmosphere, Thimmy was able to unwind and temporarily forget his problems. Besides, Tina was quite a chatter box and wouldn’t let him brood.

On the third day, it was scuba diving. A motor boat took them towards the light house which was surrounded by beds of hard and soft coral. Thimmy was hesitant about taking the risk but Tina insisted that he try.

“Nothing to fear,” she said, “Each person will be accompanied by an instructor. So there’s no likelihood of you drowning.”

The underwater world was simply fascinating. Clumps of live corals and shoals of fish darting around provided a visual treat. He had never seen such a variety of sea inhabitants before. The instructor was happy to acquaint him with the different types of coral and fish.

As a reporter, interviewing people had become Thimmy’s second nature. Once they got back to the shore, he asked questions and learnt a lot from the divers. They were all Andamanese but belonged to two broad tribal divisions – the negroids and the mongoloids. Some of them, especially the mongoloids had golden coloured hair both on their heads and on their limbs. They said it was because of the sun and salt water. The divers were certified instructors who were licensed to take tourists scuba diving. Thimmy took many pictures and made notes of all the places he had visited. “I will write an interesting travelogue when I get back to work,” he thought.

It was his last day at Port Blair.

“Do you know how to ride a motorbike?” Tina asked.

“Of course. That’s my mode of transport to work and back. Why did you ask?”

“I’m going to request a favour and I hope you’ll not refuse.”

“Try me,” Thimmy said.

“There’s one place of interest that I haven’t visited. It is not much of a tourist attraction but I’d like to go to that place. I heard that the view from there is simply gorgeous.”

The weather was fine that day. Thimmy hired a motorbike and they drove to the ferry at Chatham. From there they boarded a boat plying to Bamboo Flat.

“It doesn’t look like an exciting place,” Thimmy remarked. “In the first place I don’t see any bamboos around. Looks more like a fishing village –tiny huts with tin roofs and smelling fishing boats lined up on the shore. Why on earth did you want to come here?”

“Have patience. I’ve heard so much about this island and it can’t be anything but exciting.”

They had to travel a good 55 kilometres by motorbike to reach Mount Harriet at a height of 1193 feet. It was an exciting drive uphill with many dangerous curves. During the days of the British, this used to be the Chief Commissioner’s summer residence. On reaching the top, they had to park their vehicle and venture deep into a forest area after buying tickets. There were many trekking trails for the adventurous, but Tina said they should keep to the main path until they reached the viewing platform. The gardens were artistically laid out. Exotic birds were in abundance. There was a model Nicobarese hut built on stilts.

From the platform, the view was fantastic. They could look down on some of the islands they had visited.

“It’s so peaceful here. Thank you for bringing me to this place,” Thimmy said.

“This makes me wonder why you came to Port Blair all alone and why you looked so depressed and wanted to isolate yourself from society. You may have improved in my company. But there are times when I see the lost look in your eyes. We’ll probably never meet again. So if you want to unburden yourself about whatever is bugging you, feel free to do so. Confessions are cathartic.”

Thimmy was silent for a long time. Tina placed her hand over his.

“We all go through phases of depression. It’s nothing to be afraid of. Don’t cop out. Move on.”

Thimmy poured out his story with tears in his eyes.

“I’m afraid I’ve pinned the blame on Nina. But what if I am the culprit who has sired such a monster?”

“I think you need professional advice. You seem to have reacted very irrationally to your tragedy. Don’t let it fester in your mind and make yourself dysfunctional. Neither should you ignore it. I suggest you see a psychiatrist. You said your office is in Bombay. My sister is a psychiatrist. Consult her and she will definitely help you.”

“Do you think I’m losing my mind?”

Tina laughed. “You haven’t shown any signs of insanity over the last week. Come on Thimmy, cheer up.”

Thimmy felt better after he had unburdened himself. He continued to hold her hand.

“I want to thank you for your company. You’ve done me a great service by befriending me. Perhaps we’ll never meet again, you being a globe trotter and all that. But I never forget people who have been kind to me. Someday I might even write about a rare woman who crossed my path for just a little while and made such a difference. I’ll take your advice and go and see the psychiatrist.”

“We’ll have to hurry if we don’t want to miss the last boat to Port Blair,” Tina reminded him.

The ride back was just as exhilarating when they drove down to the pier.

IV

Nina went back to Dr. Geetha for her postnatal check-up in spite of her father insisting that she should have nothing to do with ‘that useless woman.’

“It will simply drive her into depression if she knows,” thought her father. “And that scoundrel of a son-in-law has deserted her when she needed him most. He is nothing but a heartless creature to let her go through this difficult patch alone.”

Geetha was very sad about the outcome of Nina’s pregnancy. But she felt it her duty to give her some good advice.

“Both you and Thimmy must give up the idea of having biological children. I would suggest that you seriously think of adopting a new born baby. So many women are abandoning their children because of poverty. Adopting a baby will not only bring you happiness but you will be doing a service to some poor mother.”

“I’ll think about it. Right now I don’t even know where my husband is. He might have gone off on a job assignment. But he hasn’t contacted me for some reason.”

Geetha recalled how agitated Thimmy was when he saw the child. He had shouted “This is the very personification of the devil. Silence it. Kill it. I don’t want to set eyes on it again.”

He had left the hospital in tears.

Nina decided to wait patiently till Thimmy made contact.

“Perhaps he thinks I’m not good enough as a wife. I couldn’t give him the child that he longed for.”

She had dialled their flat in Bombay but no one had lifted the phone. She spoke to the Chief Reporter of the Urbania Times and he said Thimmy had extended his leave indefinitely as he was unwell.

“Let him take his time,” thought Nina. “Disappointment has given him a rude shock. But I know Thimmy will come back to me soon because we love each other.”

Sumeeth Shetty – Thimmy – the only son of the headman of a village bordering Kerala had first set eyes on Nina at a wedding in Mangalore. He had completed his course in Journalism and Mass Communication in Madras, and was half way through his internship with a newspaper in the same city. His parents were on the lookout for a bride for him.

“Don’t expect me to agree to the first girl you select,” he told his parents.

He had made it quite clear that the choice would finally be his.

“I’d like to get to know the girl first and see if we are compatible in our tastes, character and ideologies. Don’t round up some rich man’s daughter – a country bumpkin who might have gone to school but has minimal intelligence. I want somebody with spirit who will be able to understand the nature of my work and not be a clinging vine; someone who will be able to converse intelligently, have a sense of humour and also be reasonably good looking. No dowry please. I’m not going to be bought by any girl.”

“Don’t be a jackass,” said his mother. “The higher the demand we make, the greater will be your prestige in the marriage market.”

Thimmy had first set eyes on Nina at a wedding in Mangalore. Parents had brought their daughters along in the hope of finding suitable grooms for them.

“Showcasing girls,” thought Thimmy. “Look how they’re dressed up in brocades and silks, with jewels dangling from their necks, diamonds glittering in their ears and lengths of jasmine decorating their plaits. Looks like a group of mannequins just out of their showcases.”

Then he spied Nina. She stood out from the crowd. Dressed in a light blue chiffon sari, a solitary string of pearls adorning her swan like neck, her oval face hugged by shoulder length curls, she made a beautiful picture. She was neither bashful nor giggling stupidly like the other girls. In fact, she was deep in conversation with an elderly man whom Thimmy recognized as a distant relative. He moved closer to eavesdrop and heard them discussing politics.

“Hello Uncle!” Thimmy barged into their conversation. I haven’t seen you for ages. You know I’ve been away for my studies and now I’m interning at a newspaper office in Madras.”

“Hullo Thimmy!” the man said, “I’ll forgive you this once for disturbing our serious conversation. Meet my niece Nina. She’s as astute as her lawyer father and is interested in politics too.”

Thimmy looked directly into her eyes. She was unabashed and stared back just as steadily.

“I’m Sumeeth Shetty,” he said, wondering if he should offer his hand. But she beat him to it.

“Glad to meet you. I’m Nina,” she said, thrusting her hand out. It was a strong handshake and Thimmy liked the sensation that rushed through his body.

After the wedding that followed in a few months, they moved to Bombay where Thimmy was now employed as a reporter for Urbania Times, which had its head office in Bombay. The couple settled into a modest flat at Andheri. As a reporter, Thimmy was often away from home. So Nina took up a job in a bank, rather than sitting idle at home.

They were very much in love and looked forward to having a baby. But when pregnancy did not happen for three years, they decided to seek help. Dr. Shoba Bhandari advised them to go in for in vitro fertilization which was just catching on. They were devastated when the procedure failed twice leaving a big hole in their pockets.

“Don’t lose hope,” Dr Shoba encouraged. “I told you that failures may happen. But I’m sure you’ll be lucky the third time.”

Now this horrific baby born after IVF had driven them apart and Thimmy had sunk into depression.

V.

Nina was still at her parents’ home. They showered her with love and tried various ways to cheer her up.

“I’ll get mad if I stay idle,” she said, “I must find something to do. I’m sure I can get a job at Canara Bank in this city. I’ve worked for three years at their bank in Bombay and that should count.”

Both parents encouraged her to rest a little longer and build up her strength.

While looking through the newspaper one morning as she sipped her coffee, Nina’s eyes fell on a news item. Her curiosity led her to go through the news carefully.

“Dr. Shoba Bhandari a renowned gynaecologist and specialist in ART, practising in Bombay has gifted an old woman of 72 years, a girl baby through IVF. Her husband is 78 years old. Gynaecologists and IVF experts have called this an unethical practice. It is highly unlikely that the embryo implanted in the woman was from the egg and sperms of the couple. Have they been cheated into believing that they have sired this child? At this age will the old couple be able to care for a baby?”

A number of gynaecologists from all over India had criticized the doctor, terming her act unethical and indifferent to the welfare of the newborn. Nina leaned back in her chair. She was upset that people were trying to sully the name of the good doctor. Some said that the incidence of congenital abnormalities in babies born by IVF at Dr. Bhandari’s hospital was alarming.

“What’s all the hue and cry about?” wondered Nina. “The doctor had told us many times that there was a small risk of congenital abnormalities like hare lip or cleft palate or defective hearts in babies born by IVF. She had also warned us about failures. So why is Dr. Shoba being targeted? Though I don’t know exactly what abnormality my baby had and couldn’t survive, I can’t blame the doctor. We were forewarned and the problem could have been in the faulty embryo that Thimmy and I created.”

But Nina too couldn’t understand why an old woman was impregnated. That was a wrong decision.

“Anyway our own Dr. Geetha has advised against future pregnancies though she is unaware that I conceived through IVF. Thimmy will have to forget about having a biological child which he has always longed for. I’m sure this has upset him. Or does he feel guilty that he was at fault because of his poor sperm quality? I do hope he isn’t brooding over our tragedy and getting depressed. If only he would come to me I could assure him that I don’t hold anything against him. Oh Thimmy! Where are you? Don’t you know I love you so much?”

A few weeks later, Shoba Bhandari was again in the news for medical malpractice. Someone had filed a case against her for cheating. A child born through IVF and was now a year old was diagnosed as having congenital hypoplastic anaemia and required blood transfusions. It was discovered that the child’s blood differed from that of his parents. Obviously the wrong embryo had been used for the IVF. The Media was quick to latch on to the story and blow it out of proportion. Shoba’s father-in-law spread the word around that professional jealousy was the reason why false stories were circulated about Shoba. It was rumoured that he had handed over a sizeable compensation to the aggrieved couple to withdraw the case.

VI

When Thimmy got back to Bombay after his holiday, the first thing he did was to contact his Chief Reporter at Urbania Times.

“Sir, I still feel pretty low. I need to see a doctor before I end up going into depression. I would be very grateful if you could arrange for me to have two months leave. If I feel better, I’ll resume duty earlier. Please put in a word with the editor.”

“I can understand how you feel Thimmy. Losing a child can be quite traumatic. But do try to cheer up. You are both so young and can have many children in future.”

Thimmy was a good reporter and a very pleasant fellow too. The editor was willing to grant him leave.

Thimmy waited for a week before contacting Tina’s sister, who was one of the leading psychiatrists in Bombay. Dr. Sarah Williams put him at ease on his very first visit.

“Tell me a little about your background,” she said. “This will help me get to know you better.”

Thimmy told her that his father was the headman of a village in South Kanara. Demon worship was an important part of Tulu culture. He was brought up to believe that demons (Bhutas) were more important in the villages than the Brahmanical Gods.

“As headman my father had to support a resident Bhuta in our house. A room was especially reserved for keeping his paraphernalia like masks, ornaments, jewellery and other adornments on a swing fixed in the middle of the room. From time to time he had to be propitiated depending on his demands made through his priest. If there was a calamity or misfortune in the village, offerings had to be made to him. Otherwise bad luck was sure to befall not just our house but the entire village.”

“Did you actually see the demon in your home?”

“No, but a priest represented the Bhuta. He would get possessed by the demon and make his demands.”

“And you sincerely believe in this invisible demon who makes known his demands through a man?”

“Everyone in South Kanara and parts of Kerala believe in demons. I have seen what demons can do to those who flaunt their demands or do something to annoy them.”

“And you believe that your wife has consorted with the demon and the child that she delivered was a demonic creation and definitely not from your loins?”

Thimmy shook his head. “Yes, this is driving me crazy. Perhaps someone in my family had flaunted the demon’s demands and he was not properly propitiated.”

Dr. Sarah Williams was an experienced and authoritative counsellor. She had to be very tactful in her approach. Thimmy was an educated man but also an emotionally sensitive person. The result of his shocking discovery of an abnormal child had made him lose his power of reasoning completely and he was reacting in a morbid way. It was affecting his life negatively, so much so he was unable to go back to work. It would probably take a few weeks or even a month or two to bring him back to normal. Dr. Williams was sure that cognitive therapy would unravel the distortions in his mind.

“Is it possible to get a photograph of the child?” she asked, “We must rule out any medical cause that might have caused the abnormal appearance.”

“I told them to get rid of it as soon as possible. I’m sure they would have done it.”

“Would you allow me to talk to the doctor who delivered your wife and get more information from her? A photo too would help.”

“No objections,” he said.

Dr. Geetha was very willing to help.

“Is Sumeeth with you? He disappeared the day Nina delivered and has not bothered to contact his wife. I can’t imagine what has got into him. They were such a loving couple.”

“He’s passing through something of an emotional upheaval. With a few weeks of counselling I’m sure he’ll recover.”

“I can send you a photo of the child. I had never seen such a case before. I must admit it was pretty scary. We think this is a case of severe Ichthyosis – a Harlequin child. Our paediatrician hopes to present this case at the National Paediatric Conference.”

On receiving the photograph Dr. Williams took it to her friend Dr. Deepa a gynaecologist.

“Very rare indeed. Even I haven’t seen such a case before except in text books. This is an autosomal recessive condition. When both parents carry a copy of the mutated gene they are likely to produce such a child. But it is extremely rare.”

“At first my patient did not disclose that it was an IVF baby. Later he revealed that this pregnancy occurred after the third instillation at Dr. Shoba Bhandari’s hospital.”

“Good Heavens! She’s been in the news for all the wrong reasons. No doubt she has made her mark as a leading ART specialist. In fact, hers was the first hospital to offer this service. But of late there have been several complaints. Recently someone had filed a case against her for medical malpractice. But the matter got hushed up very quickly,” said Dr. Deepa.

“Somehow I have to convince my patient that his wife is not demon possessed. If I don’t do it he is likely to lose his sanity. He has run away from his wife and may never go back.”

“I think I have a solution. Assuming that his wife has the mutated recessive gene, will your patient agree to be tested to see if he has the same gene? If it is proved that he too has the defective gene, you can convince him once for all that the child was not demonic. I will refer him to our Cytogenetic Department. The results will take three to four weeks.”

Thimmy continued to see Dr. Williams twice a week. He was already beginning to feel better. She had convinced him that this was a medical condition which could be proved medically.

“To be doubly sure I’d like you to go in for genetic testing of your chromosomes. We have the finest laboratory in our hospital and all you have to do is to give a sample of your blood.”

Thimmy waited patiently for the results. Dr. Williams had convinced him that his fears were unfounded and he must go back to his wife, but should not try for another pregnancy lest the outcome be worse. When the report came back after three weeks both doctors and patient were in for a shock. Thimmy had no mutated recessive gene but a normal dominant autosomal gene.

“I’d like you to have a chat with my friend Dr. Deepa. She will explain things to you in detail.”

Deepa was angry. “Take my advice. Go get yourself a lawyer and meet Dr. Bhandari. Rumours are that she is to receive the Padma Shri for her service to humanity. There is no doubt that she is a pioneer of ART in Bombay. But I think fame and greed have taken over. Many complaints against her are surfacing.”

Dr. Williams was not sure if Thimmy had understood the significance of his genetic test.

“Are there any questions you would like to ask before I let you go? Are you clear in your mind that your fear of demonic interference in your wife’s pregnancy was a figment of your imagination? In fact, you let this fear grow to such an extent that you had lost your capacity to think rationally. I’m glad you came to me before things got worse. I blame it on your upbringing. You were strongly influenced from childhood by this belief in demons and spirits. Now that you have no cause for fear, I hope you will be happy. Go back to your wife and tell her you had to work through your grief before you could find your way back to her.”

But before that you must visit Dr. Shoba Bhandari. Show her the photo of the child and also your genetic results and find out what went wrong.”

Dr. Williams saw immense relief on Thimmy’s face.

“I’m ever so grateful to your sister Tina for persuading me to seek your help. Thank you so much for helping me to retrieve my sanity.”

VII

Except for the watchman who had come on night duty, the hospital staff had all gone home. But Shoba Bhandari was loath to leave. Of late she had invited a lot of adverse publicity through disgruntled patients and fellow gynaecologists who were envious of her rise to fame. She sat there, thinking back on the events of the last year. Her energy and perseverance had accomplished great results. But unbridled ambition had on rare occasions led to unethical work.

Thimmy did not come with a lawyer. He had no intention of creating problems for her. All he wanted to know was why and how things had gone wrong. She recalled her conversation with him.

“Ah Thimmy! Have you come with good news? Has Nina delivered? I was waiting for good news from you.”

Thimmy’s face mirrored sadness. He gave her the photograph of the child and the results of his genetic tests. Shoba’s face turned ashen. Words of commiseration stuck in her throat.

“Doctor, you were so sure that the third IVF instillation would be a success and that we would have a healthy baby. But this was a monster and it almost broke up our marriage. I nearly lost my mind. How did it happen? According to my genetic report the child could not have been mine.”

“Whatever I did was with the best of intentions. With the poor quality of your sperm I knew you would never have a child. Do you remember that I told both of you that I would not be using your frozen embryos? I took fresh samples of sperm and egg from you both. But I did not use your sperm for fertilization. I used donor sperm from our sperm bank. Our donors are all healthy young men who have been tested for diseases like Aids, sexually transmitted disease, hepatitis and even cancer. They all have a good family history. But I don’t think any sperm bank tests its donors for genetic abnormalities. I’m sorry, I’m deeply sorry for what has happened.”

Timmy sat there silently trying to absorb what she had told him.

“Are you going to file a case against me for sperm fraud? I’m willing to pay compensation for your loss and will be ever grateful if this incident is not leaked to the media.”

“I’m not a vengeful person. Besides, you have helped so many couples have children. All I want is a promise from you that you will not make any such manipulations without the permission of couples who come to you in good faith, because this would lead to your downfall.”

Thimmy was anxious to get back to Nina. He had booked his flight to Mangalore for the next morning and hoped that Nina would forgive him for deserting her when she needed him most.

Shoba Bhandari was truly ashamed of what she had done. She realised the pain that Thimmy and Nina had gone through.

As long as the outcome was good nobody complained. But what happened in the case of Thimmy and Nina would leave her forever with a guilty conscience.

“I will have to decline the Padma Shri award which the government wants to confer on me.”

Eva Bell Writes for Indian Review