DIYA: A Beginning

Government Hospital, Rampur. A young man pacing up and down the corridors waiting for the nurse to lay it on him. The news that is. A white crisp tunic clad woman is in view now. She has a smile on her face. “You have been blessed with a beautiful, healthy daughter.” The new father jumped with joy. He rushed to meet his wife. And together they looked at their miracle. The most beautiful daughter born ever, they thought. They each silently started dreaming for her, how she would be, a successful engineer like Rahul… no a doctor… no an architect… no the Prime Minister of India and overwhelmed with joy, they burst into peals of laughter amidst tears.
The Patils were welcomed with great grandeur at their house when they returned with little Diya. After all, Rahul Patil was the son of the Headman of the village. Both the sets of grandparents beamed at their granddaughter. Suddenly all went silent. Diya went red. She sneezed. The crowd went into bursts of “So cute!”, “How adorable!”, “God bless this little child, Diya, the light of this village!”
Medha Patil looked at her daughter lovingly. She thought about all the pain Rahul and she had to endure for this little daughter to be born. The doctor had priori warned them about the possibility of Medha haemorrhaging internally which would put both her and the baby’s lives in danger. But she knew how much Rahul and her in-laws had waited for this child. She had done so many pujas for days together. She had taken a break from her social work, to keep herself fit and fine. She looked at her daughter lovingly, at her rotund face covered with a pastel woolen cap that she had knit by herself, those kohled shiny eyes, those rosy cheeks, those rosebud lips and that toothless million dollar smile, and thought that all of it was worth it.
Diya grew up to be a beautiful woman. She was an A+ student. Her teachers doted on her, girls adored her and boys well, just watched her in simple wonder and amazement. And, it was no wonder that Diya gave the closing speech for the White Design University’s graduating class of 2006-07. She had come a long way. Her parents looked at her. Diya, the light of their lives. They thanked God for giving them such a fantastic daughter who always had her head on her shoulders, and no success ever getting to her head, a daughter who had always been so responsible while they were away at work, a daughter who was so emotionally strong that she had endured the near fatal accident at the age of 5 that took away the power of vision from her. At that moment, Medha felt a mini - déjà vu. A moment where she thought, all was worth it.
To be continued...