I remember the conflicting feelings I had as a seven-year-old, watching my mother bloat by the day. On the one hand I was upset and scared she would burst, on the other hand I was immensely happy for I knew I was to have a sibling. I would follow my mother as she went about her household chores with difficulty, and would ask a number of questions. She was unaware I had already thought of a name. I was eager to know whether I would have a brother or a sister. But each time my mother would seal my curiosity with a kiss.
One day mother announced she and father were going off to the doctor for an ultrasound test and that soon I would have the answer to my question. I was on top of the world. I remember requesting her to take me along. But that was in vain and I was packed off to school. But anxiety was at its peak!
I told my friends that soon I would have a sibling to play with. That was the only day I didn’t trudge back home slowly with my school bag; I ran all the way back. I threw my bag and ran to my parents’ bedroom, unaware that my little happy world would be shattered in a single blow. What I saw was a dreadful.
I could hear my father shouting at my mother. I quickly ran and stood in between them. What I could gauge was that he didn’t want another burden like me in his life. My mother managed to smile at me and father ordered me to leave. I remember having conflicting feelings again and couldn’t actually get what it was all about. But once everything cooled down, my mother took me to another room, sat me on the bed and looked at me. Then she smiled and asked… hey baby, how did you like our play? She told me father and she were taking part in a play that was to be staged by the dramatic society, and they were practising their roles.
Almost 30 years have passed, and now I understand it was no rehearsal!
