Mitran ****

Ashok held Seema’s hand. He tried not to be emotional in front of his wife. But Seema was inconsolable. “Why? Why? Why?” she kept whispering. Ashok had no answer. “Its so unfair!” Seema sobbed.

Their expectations of a beautiful baby to complement their idyllic life had been rudely disrupted. Nothing had prepared them for this. The baby was retarded.

After the initial shock, they were in denial. It could not be true. Such a beautiful thing had to be perfect. But it WAS true. Their beautiful child was mentally deficient. The anger lasted a while, followed by depression and a deep despair. And then Baby Mitran looked at them. Seema melted.

***

Mitran was an angelic child. He smiled at everyone. His eyes were dark and deep, and his look was piercing. He seldom cried. But laughed often. It was easy to forget his deficiency. Seema enjoyed looking at him. She used to shed silent tears. But now, she realised that this was a precious gift from God. She would hover over his crib, and listen to Mitran’s gurgles. And whenever she was there, Baby Mitran would gurgle even more and make all kinds of noises.

But Ashok never looked at Mitran. He just could not accept him.

***
Mitran, now six years old, was making shapeless crayon markings on the paper. He looked up, his eyes as piercing as ever. "Dhadhy,"
Ashok was going through rough patch. He had taken a pay cut. His job was at risk. He answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother.

"Me painting," Mitran persisted.

"I see that. What is it?"

"Ghappiness." Mitran smiled at Ashok.

Ashok was startled.

"Dhadhy, why you sad? "

Mitran’s perceptiveness surprised Ashok. "I took a pay cut," explained Ashok. “I may lose my job.” The next moment, he thought, my God, why was he saying this to a little child?

"Oh," Mitran looked concerned, "then this bad day."

"Yes." Ashok looked at his son.

***

Seema was sitting on the chair near Mitran’s cot, her hand on the child’s head. She looked forlorn. She had no more tears. She had lost her son. Mitran had died peacefully. Ashok felt a strange sense of sadness, tinged with relief. He quickly went over and hugged Seema.

***

Seema handed Ashok a smeared envelope, with DHADHY printed in bold, childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues -- a yellow patch in the corner, a sea of blue , and brown doodles. Underneath was carefully printed: HAPINESS FOR DHADHY.

Tears welled up in Ashok’s eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened wide. He sobbed uncontrollably.