Last week we were travelling to Pavna Lake, a stunning weekend getaway just an hour and a half from the buzzing Mumbai. There we met a couple. A lovely, young Indian couple. The woman was 5 months pregnant and the couple was elated. This is their story.
We invited them to our room for drinks. At night; all of us were in somewhat high spirits (except the to – be mother of course), when her husband began to discuss the ordeal they had to face to achieve parenthood. He explained to us how they were not able to conceive despite all attempts since a year. He spoke of the exhausting rounds at the gynecologists and obstetricians that left the couple with lesser and lesser hope each time they met somebody.
Harder they worked, further they got from actually having the baby. Every time they visited the doctor, the doctor said; “What are you doing so wrong? Are you drinking? Are you taking some pills?”. Another, rather crude doctor told them, “You are getting older by the minute. And by the minute, you both are losing your fertility!” Their sex life ironically suffered the most. The one thing, they never had any problem with, now suffered immensely. The harder they worked towards it, the more stress built up, romance got thrown out of the window and having a baby became a dying hope.
6 months ago, they gave up. One morning, the woman woke up and threw away all her medications. She went to work after a week’s sick leave and wrote a note to her husband. It read, “I can live without a baby but not without my life.” And that was it. They gave up all their doctors and medications and went back to their wine, beer and non – vegetarian diets. They even got a dog to fill up the void of the future. Soon love flourished, and intimacy took it’s own course to make a child grow naturally within the woman. No medications, a really bad lifestyle but a month later; she actually got pregnant!
So what ever happened to the ageing womb and the weltering sperm count? They went to see the crude doctor again who now said, “See. It pays off. All the medications, all the persistence.” The husband started laughing hysterically now as he said, “But Doc ! We were both drunk when we made our child !” The husband swore that the doctor turned red when he heard this and asked them to leave and they happily obliged!
So they dropped the hopes, they even chose not to follow the hard routine. The eased into their life. They made their life fun. They did the one thing their unborn child wanted them to do – To be themselves, stress- free, carefree, just like him / her. And then the soul entered his mother’s happy body, to float in her happy waters, and to kick and move in her new found stress free comfort.
My happy ending to this story was when the woman told me, “It is so funny. We tried and tried and tried and we couldn’t make it. And now, this fellow right here, is an unplanned child ! ” she said while she nursed her swell.
At one point in my life, most women I knew loved their high heels, lip glosses and tote bags. Needless to say, they could tell their wines apart by their noses. The men could only talk about their Scotch as Rum/Vodka was for boys. And then there was me; lonely in a crowd, a desperate lager lover.
Beer came to me naturally. I live in Bombay and for most parts of the year it is above 30 degrees in my city. Beer has been the infallible friend (of the pocket), the instant mood lifter and the gazetted ale for all illness for many years now. The cool perspiration on the bottle, the bubbling freshness as I open the can and the foamy goodness that tops my glass; I adore it all.
Back at home, beer is a weekend ritual. We would head to a pub, open bottles of goodness and clunk clunk! Glasses cheered and the week that has gone by becomes history. In the usually overcrowded bar, my friends (the only two “beerers” I know) and I are trigger happy. All of a sudden there is laughter and suddenly an uptight employee becomes the boss of her own life. Except my squashy belly, beer is certainly therapeutic to the rest of my system, especially my head.
Not so lately, I discovered a whole new range of beer’s second cousins (okay maybe third), Ciders. Apple, pear, honey I went from bar to bar in Mumbai and devoured them all. It was love at first sight. But the best cider I had was far from home
Last year, in the spring month of February we visited New Zealand, God’s own country. As opposed to drinking in tiny bars, while being nudged and pushed and in the background of euro trash or pop music, at NZ; I could walk down with a beer in my hand, drinking on the pavement or in the garden. This kind of behaviour back in my own country inevitably attracts bad attention. So free beering atmosphere of NZ was a welcome relief for us. At Queenstown, we sipped ciders at the lawn in front of the magnificent lake, at the Waterfront cafes and while strolling on the road. But the best cider I had was 5 hours away, at Fox Glacier in the Southern NZ.
One evening, at Fox Glacier; with nothing much to do we decided to head towards a bar. At the foothills of the glacier, the temperature would by around 20 degrees and the pleasant warmth of the late setting sun was providing us with the right warmth for a chilled glass of cider.
We were driving through what seemed like a by lane to a large farm. And across the farm, on a patch of green grass stood a lonely tavern. But it wasn’t as lonely as it seemed. From the time we parked the car, we sensed the place had some buzzing energy. We walked towards the bar / eatery to be surprised by the number of people around us. Having been in NZ for about 15 days now, we started to get used to being alone or surrounded by sheep, but people? Happy surprise!
We placed an order for two ciders and took our chairs outside the tavern facing the field. Once again, the solitude of acres and acres of land started to settle in. We looked at the serenity that lay in front of us. The glacier topped mountain, the enormous paddy field, the peaceful meditative sheep and this beautiful eatery. I tried to slip into my meditative state as soon as I held my apple cider in my hand. To my surprise, I kept looking back into the tavern to see cheerful people, smiling, laughing even, children playing peek – a – boo, mothers urging them to settle down, a group of grandpas chatting about good ol’ days and chefs piping some hot food. All of them happy, glee, content with my sparkling wonder drink in their hands.
I was in the happiest place that I know; nature unfolded it’s treasures as it started to drizzle gently. People moved away from the pavement, I sat there even more firmly. I watched as nature charmed me. I knew I had backing. Backing of my poeple. So what if I didn’t know them. They are my kind, my species and they are right here behind me. I loved the hustle I heard. And lastly, I loved my sparkling bottle of apples and everything nice that has been spreading joy and hope in so many lives.
That day I came to a realization : We all love serenity, pointless calm even but at the end of the day we are just a bunch of social animals; aren’t we? We couldn’t wait to get back home!
Spirited Poetess 