Aakaash Ganga

We stop at a wayside cafe for coffee, a weak sun encourages us to sit outside. Suddenly Ganga jumps up. "Just wait here Aakaash," she mumbles and runs across the street and enters a pharmacy on the other side.

I can see her through the glass doors, gesticulating to the woman behind the counter, then she takes out her phone and shows her something. She is probably using Google Translate to get her point across, for soon she comes out stuffing something in her handbag.

"You, okay, sweetheart?" I ask.

"Yes, but if you have finished your coffee, can we get back to our place?"

I pay up and we head back. "Are you okay?" I ask again and she is all smiles.

As soon as we enter, she pushes me on the bed and is all over me. "Aakaash, this is crazy, but I totally forgot, I am 3 days overdue."

"What are you talking about, Ganga?"

"You idiot, I missed my periods, I got some pregnancy detection kits from the pharmacy." She gets up to go to the bathroom.

"Hey, you are supposed to check with the first sample in the morning, right?"

She ignores me and goes in and a couple of minutes later she screams. I rush in, she is sitting with her panties down, holding a strip in her hands. One look at her face and I know what the test result says.

I pull her up and let her straighten herself, then we collapse on the couch. All we can do is hold each other and kiss fervently.

Finally, I find some words. "Ganga, is our daughter clairvoyant?" I ask, and we burst into laughter.

Ganga has two more kits and she checks again in the morning. The result is the same. I make tender love to her, very delicately.

"I am not that fragile, honey," she says.

I smile, but behind that smile, only I know that I am now worried. Many years ago, I was happy like this when my world collapsed. "I won't let it happen again," I resolve.

The last few days of our holiday passes off in a daze.

"I still can't believe you have put a baby in me Aakaash, I feel complete and fulfilled now."

It still hasn't sunk in that we are having a baby. All we know is we are in a cocoon of tenderness.

Ganga: Catharsis

Our return trip is smooth. I have a window seat, we are upfront, away from the noise of the engines and I can see the lights of the towns and cities we fly over. Aakaash has an arm around me most of the time, often adjusting the blanket that covers both of us, ensuring I am warm and comfortable.

It is 5 AM when we exit the airport, I see Manjula and my father waiting at the exit.

"Surprise!" Manjula screams as she falls into our outstretched arms. Father hugs us both, enquiring solicitously if we had a comfortable flight.

"What are you doing here, shouldn't you be in college?" Aakaash gently chides her.

"Dad, it is the weekend, I wanted to meet you guys so I took a bus from my campus last evening after my last lecture. I will take an early morning bus on Monday morning and will be well in time for my first class of the day."

"I am taking you home, you can get back to your place later in the evening," my father says.

We catch a few hours of sleep and then settle down to brunch. I distribute all the gifts that we have picked up for the family members, regale them with our sight-seeing activities and share the pictures we have taken in Finland. Then we drive back home, Manjula accompanies us.

Manjula helps us clean up the house a bit, and we rustle up a simple dinner, then settle down in the living room with our coffee.

Manjula squeezes in between us on the sofa. "Don't give me that dirty look," she teases, "you guys must be tired by now of being glued together for three weeks." Then she looks into my eyes and raises one eyebrow quizzically. I look over her head at Aakash, he nods imperceptibly.

I take her hand and place it gently over my tummy. "Feel anything sweetheart?" I ask innocently. She shakes her head, but I can see excitement flowing into her eyes.

"Very soon, you will," I say with a wink.

"Ammmmaa," she shrieks and then she flings her arms around me and rains kisses on my cheeks. Then she lets go of me and piles on to Aakaash.

"Dad, you are the best," she yelps. "How did this happen?" She squeals in her excitement.

Aakaash is amused. "You want me to teach a budding doctor in medical school how babies happen?" He laughs.

"I didn't mean that Dad, what changed the odds?"

"Well, you always have been a pampered brat," I say, "so I guess we just decided to give you what you want as ever before." We hug each other and have a hearty laugh.

"She is in a good mood, let us talk to her tomorrow," I say to Aakaash as we go to bed. He takes me protectively into his arms.

We are at our kitchen counter, sipping coffee. Aakaash leans across and kisses me lightly. We are interrupted by a delicate cough as Manjula enters the kitchen. Without batting an eyelid, he leans across and kisses me again, then turns to Manjula. "Good morning sweetie, did you sleep well?" he enquires.

"Wow, she exclaims, I would have clicked a picture if I had my phone handy," she giggles.

I pour her a mug of coffee. "How are your classes coming along, Manju?" I ask.

"Great Amma, it has just been about a month, but we have covered a lot of ground. We start our lab work next week, I am excited."

"Any plans for today?"

"No, Amma, why?"

"Dad and I want to have a small discussion with you after breakfast, breakfast will ready in an hour."

"Right, I will be showered and dressed by then."

We continue to sit at the dining table as Aakaash clears the breakfast dishes, and then joins us. He is sitting to my left and Manju sits across the table in front of me.

"This is going to be a bit complicated, honey, so we want to tell you at the outset of this discussion that both of us love you very much."

Manjula holds up her hand, signalling us to stop talking. She looks at me with a very straight and grim face.

"If this discussion is about my mother, then let me make it very clear, I have only one mother, my Amma. I love her and my dad like crazy and there is no one else, except of course Daada, Daadi, Naana, and Naani, who matter to me."

Both of us are stunned, the wind has been taken out of our sails Then a relieved feeling floods my senses.

Aakaash breaks the long silence that follows. "Have any of the grandparents been talking to you."

"No, Dad!"

"How long have you known what you seem to know and where did you get your information from?"

Manjula heaves a big sigh as if something weighty has just been lifted off her chest.

"Amma, you remember, when I was preparing for my relocation to the college campus? I called you in an absolute panic one day, that I couldn't find my 12th class marks sheet in my document folder. A document that is absolutely necessary to complete my admission formalities."

I nodded. She went on. "You told me that the sheet was smaller than most of my other certificates, it would be right there in the folder and probably be stuck between two larger certificates."

"Yes, you never got back and I forgot all about it afterwards."

"Well, you were right, Amma, I found them almost immediately. Then I scanned all my certificates and saved them on the computer. While placing the folder back in the drawer and closing it, the drawer came off its sliding mechanism. To fix it, I had to remove the drawer below it. That drawer was locked, I unlocked it with my hairpin and a credit card."

"Where did you learn this trick?"

"Oh, come on, Amma, we did that all the time in school when we forgot our locker keys at home or when we lost the keys. Well, when I was putting the drawers back in place, I noticed this large brown file folder in the second drawer. I know I shouldn't have peeked into it, and I don't know why I did. I am really sorry, Amma, really sorry, Dad."

"Go on, tell us everything."

"The first document I saw was a marriage certificate, the marriage between Aakaash and Jamuna. That hit me hard. A certificate in our home, with dad's name on it and with what the fuck, the name of another woman? Then there was a birth certificate, the baby's name was mentioned as Manjula, the father's name as Aakaash and the mother's as Jamuna. That was my birth certificate. I started to cry, Amma and I was hoping that the next document I find would be an affidavit where Jamuna has changed her name to Ganga."

"Oh baby," I gasped, and reached out across the table to hold her hand, Aakaash did the same and held her other hand.

"What I found was even more confusing. I found a death certificate, Jamuna had died of cardiac arrest following a clot in her brain. After that was another marriage certificate, that of Aakaash and Ganga. Then there was a whole sheaf of legal documents and as I glanced through them, I realised it was a procedure that made Ganga my legal mother."

She looked bravely at both of us. Tears were forming in her eyes, but Aakaash and I had moist eyes too.

"I grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil, Dad, and wrote down the dates on those certificates and pieced the chronology of events. So Aakaash and Jamuna married, then just about eight months later, I was born. No one had ever mentioned I was a premature baby, both the grandparents have always told me I was a cheerful, playful and sleepy infant, so I surmised I was a love child. Then three days after I was born, Jamuna was gone. When I was a year and three months old, Aakaash and Ganga married. Then my Amma became my legal Amma."

She took a deep breath, my brave little Manju, gutsy as my sister Jamuna, but in a much calmer way.

"I looked at the mirror for a long time, Amma, Dad. I had the facial features of Aakaash and Ganga, how could I be Jamuna's daughter? Then it hit me, though, in hindsight, it was so obvious. Ganga and Jamuna were twins. Ganga and Jamuna are a very common set of names for twin girls in India."

After a pause, she spoke again. "Who named me 'Manjula,' Amma? Was it your sister or was it you?"

"It was Ganga," Aakaash interjected. "She fell in love with you as soon as she saw you, your name means 'beautiful' and that is what you are, have always been."

"I knew it had to be you, Amma, you are the crossword freak in our family, you take away the morning newspaper to work so that you can complete the crossword during your lunch break. You add an 'L' to JAMUNA, and it becomes an anagram for 'Manjula.' Does the 'L' stand for anything, Amma?"

This girl is perceptive, she has brains. I had to reply.

"The 'L' stands for 'Love,' Manju, When I named you, it was just love and wordplay, but soon things changed. By a strange quirk of destiny, Jamuna came to live in Manjula"

Aakaash strode over and hugged me. "You never told me this in all these years."

I smiled at him. How do I tell him now, that I did tell him this the day after Jamuna died, but his brain has blanked out that traumatic period?

"Are you upset with us, Manjula? More so, are you upset with me?" I ask Manjula anxiously.

"Amma, you are a biologist. Hasn't it occurred to you that though I was not formed in your womb, though I did not make my entry into this world through your birth canal, I carry all your genes? I am 50% you and 50% Dad, put me through a DNA test and the test will return a 99.9% probability that both of you are my parents."

I had to admit, she was right, in every other way she is my daughter.

She went on. "But I wondered why all this was kept a secret from me, and then I realised, you would have definitely told me everything after I turned 18. That is when I got this urgent desire, this craving for a sibling. I thought maybe both of you decided not to have another baby so that you could lavish all your love on me, but knowing you, that isn't just you. Both of you are crazy about each other and your love is infinite, you could have had half a dozen kids and still loved each one of us equally."

She got up, came around the table and took my face in her palms.

"There is one piece of this jigsaw puzzle that is not falling in place, Amma. In that drawer, there is a breast pump. It is old and probably doesn't work, but what is it doing there?"

I try to suppress a sob that rises up my throat. My darling Aakaash comes to my rescue.

"I kept that there, Manju. I couldn't get around to discarding it. It is the pump your Amma used, to supplement her strong will and determination to bring her virginal self to lactate."

His stress on the word, 'virginal' and its impact and import is not lost on Manjula.

"She chose to be your mother, she chose to nurse her baby, then when we both fell in love, she chose to be with me as my wife," he says with an intense passion that is evident on his face.

"Jamuna was my colleague at work, Manju," he continues, "we fell in love, we had parental approval and were engaged to be married. Ganga was very supportive of both of us and the twins loved each other. A couple of months before the wedding, you were conceived. At that moment, you were our love child, and soon enough, you became the child of our love. Maybe you will now understand, why Amma and I love each other so much, why we are the crazy, 'always in love' couple, you see. We really did want a sibling for you, and though everything is normal with us, it just took a little too long. But yes, hopefully, you will soon have your baby brother or sister."

"Amma, Dad, can I cook a fabulous lunch for both of you now?"

Aakaash: Sunrise

Manjula asks Ganga the date of her last period and immediately calculates the probable delivery date for the baby.

"This will be around the 11th of June, Amma, bang in the middle of my summer semester break. I will be with you on the big day," she beams. Then she asks,

"Dad, when are you taking Mom for her medical check-up? Do you have some doctors shortlisted?"

"I was planning to do it tomorrow, We need to talk to our parent's. They may be able to suggest someone, I also plan to ask our family physician. This has been a bit unexpected, sweetheart."

"Can you hold on for a day? Once I get back to campus tomorrow morning, I will talk to my professor and head of the Department of Gynaecology and Obstetrics. She is one of the top-notch doctors in the country. I am sure she can put me on to someone in this city."

I looked at Ganga, she nods approval.

Manjula calls us as promised. "I will text you the address and phone numbers of Dr Meghna," she says. "She is an alumnus of my college and a former student of my professor. She also happens to be one of the best G & O in the city and she is pretty good with patients who have a baby in their later years. My professor has also spoken to her and she will be expecting you."

Dr Meghna is pretty surprised when she is told that this is Ganga's first pregnancy. We perforce narrate our story to her.

"You are an amazing woman, Ganga," she says. She reconfirms the pregnancy and schedules Ganga and me for a battery of tests. I am apprehensive about later complications, especially after what happened to Jamuna. I show her Jamuna's medical history which we still possess.

"I will schedule an appointment with our consultant neurologist." She informs Ganga. "Since such an event happened to your twin, we should rule out any hereditary issues, just to be on the safe side, and anyway monitor you at periodic intervals throughout your pregnancy. I don't want you to worry, be cheerful, lead a normal life, including a normal sex life unless I flag off any complications. Stay positive, eat healthily and do not take any medicines without consulting me," she says.

All reports come out normal, even the neurological ones. The neurologist suggests an MRI, assuring us it is absolutely safe for pregnant women. That too is normal.

"I think all will go well, we will do another scan after the delivery. I do not expect any complications," he says.

The parents are thrilled and excited. They offer to come over and help us out when it is time for the baby to be born. Manjula comes over for a weekend the following month and accompanies us for Ganga's monthly checkup. She is curious and concerned and asks Dr Meghna a lot of questions, which Dr Meghna patiently answers.

"You know, Manjula," Dr Meghna says, "we Indians revere our teachers. We consider them on par with our parents. Since you are the student of my former professor and undoubtedly the best teacher I ever had, you and I are like sisters, though I am probably old enough to be your mother."

Then she asks, "Would you like to spend some time in my hospital during your summer vacation? You can pick up lots of knowledge, though you are not yet ready for and hence will not be allowed to handle patients directly. I will pay you a small stipend too."

Manjula is thrilled. "Doctor, I will come over, even if the only job you can offer me is one of cleaning and sterilising hospital equipment," she gushes. Then she adds, "Can I be with you for Amma's delivery?"

"We will certainly consider that depending on your performance and knowledge levels," replies Dr Meghna with a mysterious smile.

I take extremely great care of Ganga and she is just amazing. With all the changes taking place in her body, she remains cheerful, never losing her cool at any time.

Then a day before the expected date, Manjula and I move her to Dr Meghna's hospital.

Both of us are with Ganga when she delivers. Dr Meghna is continuously explaining the procedures and what is happening as Ganga goes through relatively easy labour. She even allows Manjula to assist her in cutting the umbilical cord after she has places our son and Manjula's little brother on Ganga's body. I hold Ganga to me tightly.

Soon Ganga is wheeled out to her room and is feeding the baby. I remain on tenterhooks for the next 48 hours, a quick scan of Ganga's brain shows no anomalies. Then we are home.

Uday is a lovely kid, he bears a startling resemblance to Manjula. Uday, in almost every Indian language, means 'Dawn' or 'Sunrise,' for he was conceived under the Aurora, and Aurora is the goddess of dawn.

Six weeks later, after her postpartum checks, as I place a sleeping, well-fed Uday in his crib, I hear Ganga moving behind me. She stands a few feet away, in a sleeveless maternity gown. Her hands cross her breast and reach for her shoulder straps. Her gown slides down.

"Aakaash, Ganga waits impatiently for you," she smiles seductively.

I rip off my clothes and in a couple of strides, I reach my Ganga, my Aphrodite, my goddess of love, beauty, pleasure, passion and procreation and hold her tight to me. I feel her nipples rubbing against mine, as her breasts flatten against my chest and express their contents. We turn sticky even as our lips lock in a deep drawn-out kiss.

'Aakaash Ganga,' in every Indian language, refers to The Milky Way.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++