The Balcony door 🚪 Postpartum Memoir

🐵🐒 Some monkeys maybe docile but the ones I've met are not. They snatch,steal and screech hard enough to rattle windows and when that doesn't work,they attack!

Up close,monkeys aren't cute. They look vicious.Wicked. Wrong.The most threatening moment isn't the sound. Its the stare -Open mouth, lowered eyebrows.They make intense chattering sounds like you've broken a law.Each time I was chosen by an infuriating monkey.I didn't sign up for it.I have no love for these unpleasant unappealing creatures and here's why.

The first time a monkey humiliated me, I was 12.  

The second time I was an adult and knew better. 

After the third I despised them forever.

Between these 3 encounters lies my education in Monkey Politics.  

Encounter 1

 

I was at the Bangalore railway station with my aunt waiting for a train.

A sharp tug spun me around to see an idiotic monkey pulling down my skirt.

The elastic band at the waist added to making the attempt successful.

I was too frightened to scream and too embarrassed to cry for it grabbed eyeballs to new entertainment at a public place. 

My aunt flung her bag at the animal to shoo it away.

Left a 12 year old me crying in panic

and embarrassment. 

Encounter 2

This one time after 'darshan' at a temple in the city of Mysore, an oversized monkey tailgated me into my car.While I opened the car door,it opened negotiations.The hairy mammal  slipped into the passenger seat like he owned it and refused to leave. 

Ten minutes later 3 men, a broom and a half- eaten banana were involved in the eviction process. "Why my car?" I asked the man outside the temple who wandered around to see the show. He replied"Madam, you are the only one holding a bag" In monkey economics it is equal to carrying food."Bag = Bhojan"he said.

A lesson was learnt. I noted that everyone else came empty- handed. I was not special. I was the only shop opened for lunch.

Both these encounters were uninvited, until yet another horrifying incident sealed my hate- story with monkeys forever. 

Encounter 3

I had just delivered my first- born baby girl.

Traditionally, after 40 days of childbirth the new parent is sent to her maternal home to recover from the post-natal trauma and regain her lost strength.My parents who became 'Nana -Nani' (maternal grandparents) and younger brothers freshly minted 'mamus'( maternal uncles) were elated about this bundle of joy and excited to welcome the new addition into the family.

The enthusiastic grandmother made sure she had everything covered for the both of us. She set up a tidy room with the required essentials in place - a kettle to boil water, a set of face, hand and bath towels, self embroidered sheets neatly stacked, plenty of baby wear, knitted booties, mittens, bibs and an entire range of the best baby products. 

It is only fair to say that no one nutures like mothers do.To make sure I don't exert myself and get complete rest, my mother appointed an experienced mid -wife to help with postpartum care. I don't recall her name but my memory is of a not- so- tall slightly stout south Indian lady in her early forties. She was dark skinned with thick long black hair coiled into a bun neatly arranged with fresh white jasmine flowers, spreading its mild fragrance as she entered the house. On most days she was draped in a printed floral sari teamed with a matching blouse defined by a wide neckline.She adorned herself with studded earrings and a big red 'bindi'or 'kumkum'on her broad forehead.A thick chain- like thread around her neck signifies her marital status.She was clean,well turned out and carried herself with grace and ease.The tiny bells on her anklets made a chiming sound as she walked with lamb-like steps around the house. 

She was assigned to give the new arrival and the first- time mother a light massage, then bathe the infant.Prompt and punctual to show up every single morning, she did her job with diligence and confidence. 

It was nerving yet interesting to observe the  various techniques she used while massaging and bathing the baby. Her expertise to handle fragility was impressive.

After the exhausting bathing session was over, the tasker gently wiped the baby in a light towel, carefully wrapped her in a disinfected soft cotton sheet and handed her over to be fed. She would patiently wait until the feed was given.While the new born was being nursed she made witty conversations and shared intriguing stories about her village life.She then rocked her to sleep,tucked her into bed and left for the day. This was a daily routine until something unusual happened one afternoon after her visit. 

My baby was comfortably asleep on the bed between a pair of  pink-colored satin cushions, hand-made & gifted to me by my cousin.The master bedroom of this spacious, airy apartment was on the second floor of the building. 

The bedroom opened to a small balcony shaded by a well-branched Gulmohar that stood planted on the left side of it. The door of this balcony remained open during the day to allow easy ventilation.  

Soon after lunch I headed to the same room to take an afternoon nap.

An unexpected sight in the room took me by utter shock and devastation. A huge monkey with a dark brown coat,bold looking eyes, a  long strong tail almost like a fifth limb,wiggling its oddly shaped ears sat on the bed gaping at my sleeping princess.

A spontaneous reaction to scream in this situation is inevitable but presence of mind instructed me to stay still.

I froze. 

Movement could have startled it. Noise could have provoked it. Every cell inside me warned- "Don't make this bigger"

In a feeble voice I called out to my mother. She came immediately and stood beside me, speechless! 

Signalling her not react in haste or panic,I held her by the arm to stop her from stepping forward. 

The next few minutes felt like the longest hours.

The horrible beast by now was fully aware of our presence in the room. It looked at us then looked at the sleeping infant and repeated this action a couple of times. As I am writing, fear and anxiety fills my lungs. I hear the pounding of my heart. 

The probability of an attack was undoubted and the helplessness equally unfortunate. 

In the next instant my mother began to chant"Waheguru Waheguru" in soft whispers under her breath. I kept a close watch from the distance. She was in deep slumber without a worried line on her tender face. Every breath she was taking was our responsibility. 

Have we heard of miracles ???? We witnessed a marvel in front of our eyes.The ape- like creature decided to turn away. It jumped down the bed and fled out of the door, pouncing back upon the branch of the old tree. Within a jiffy, I ran. Not towards my child but towards the balcony to slam the door behind it.

Our exhalations were long, relieving. It took a few deep breaths to realise the baby was safe and untouched. My mother pressed her close to her chest and ululated in gratitude. This event could have scarred us for a lifetime. 

It may not be impossible for you to imagine the chaos of emotions we felt in those moments, and in the weeks of recovery that followed. 

                 ______________________