I was late. They were waiting for me. With hurried steps, I walked towards them.
“Sorry! Mumbai Traffic!”
And…
“Thank you Madam ji!”
“Vidya, you have done so much for us. I think this much we can do for you” replied Sonal.
“Can I hold them once?” asked Vidya.
“Sure.”
Sonal handed over the babies to her.
Vidya held the two of them cautiously. They were just one month old. A boy and a girl. They had been my lucky mascot. I hugged them and after giving them all my blessings, handed them to their mother.
I took out the red thread from my purse.
“Please tie this thread around their wrist. It will protect them from every evil eye.”
And…I requested hesitatingly.
“Please share their photographs.”
After a small pause the mother replied, “I will.”
The couple left.
I stood outside the airport, watching them walk away, not knowing when or if I’d see them again.
I had promised myself that I would not cry. But tears flowed incessantly. I sat down on the pavement with my head buried between my hands. Memories attacked me like a torrential downpour.
Two years back, everything was going well in my life. Caring husband and two lovely kids. My husband was a taxi driver but he earned enough to make our ends meet. But an accident brought him on the wheelchair. I wasn’t one who cried over circumstances. I struggled hard. I started working as a maid and did tailoring jobs but money was never enough. Then one day one of my memsaabs asked me if I could do them a favour. At first I was terrified but after a lot of contemplation, I signed the contract. Even the amount I had been promised was not less. I was able to pay for the kids’ school fees, my husband’s medicines and most importantly I had enough food.
It was not easy. To bear a child for a childless NRI couple via surrogacy. There were some initial complications but everyone’s happiness doubled when they came to know that I had twins. The NRI couple who were about to become parents were very kind. They took great care of me and also increased the amount they had agreed upon. I had been a mother twice but the experience of giving birth to twins was completely different. Though the kids were not mine but the womb was, which they had hired on rent. I had kept them for nine months, nurtured them with my blood and love. I heard their first heartbeat, and experienced their first kick, told stories and sang lullabies for them. I had promised myself that I would never get emotionally attached to them. But today the tears are not stopping.
I knew the end. But a mother is always a mother. Her heart beats the same for all her kids.
I wiped my tears with my dupatta, looked at the airport and bid a final adieu…
