3-D: Devika Damini Deeksha

3D

Devika Damini Deeksha

Sukumar Mandalika

Notion Press

Old No. 38, New No. 6

McNichols Road, Chetpet

Chennai - 600 031

First Published by Notion Press 2016

Copyright © Sukumar Mandalika 2016

All Rights Reserved.

ISBN 978-93-5206-701-5

This book has been published in good faith that the work of the author is original. All efforts have been taken to make the material error-free. However, the author and the publisher disclaim the responsibility.

No part of this book may be used, reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high, Where knowledge is free,

Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls,

Where the words come out from the depth of truth,

Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection,

Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit,

Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever widening thought and action,

Into that Heaven of Freedom, my Father, let my country awake!

‘Gurudev’ Rabindranath Tagore

Author’s Note

This is purely a work of fiction, aimed at enthusing our youth – at 65% of its population, India’s only hope today – to look beyond themselves. References have been made to real life personalities, locations, incidents and entities. These references are only salutatory, never derogatory. My apologies, if any of the references made have digressed from facts.

This book is dedicated to the indelible memory of the three most revered youth of India who happily breathed their last on the gallows so that their motherland breathed its air in freedom and dignity.

and to those thousands of faceless, nameless youth across the country who died anonymously but honourably in the long, arduous pursuit of the freedom of India.

Sukumar Mandalika

Prologue

Central Bombay (now Mumbai), Maratha Mandir Cinema, 26th January 1965

As he alighted from the yellow-black Fiat taxi (as ubiquitous in Bombay as vada paav) at the gate of the cinema hall, Ashok felt irritated by the crowd at the ticket counters that was swelling by the minute as the evening show time approached. His passport for entry into the hall, though, stood right next to him: Indira, his fiancé from their engagement that was formalised only a day before after weeks of interaction between their families, not to mention the secret phone calls between the two! Cinema hall queues remain those few places in India where women come first, men next. Today shall be no exception Ashok mused as he guided his fiancé to the ticket counters.

Do you see movies, Miss Indira? Ashok enquired after breaking the ice over telephone in his first ever conversation with her, a day after he went with his parents to Indira’s home for the extremely embarrassing yet customarily essential ritual of looking up the girl who could eventually qualify to become his wife. Lovers in wedlock are spared this embarrassment of stepping into several strange homes with their families in tow before finally zeroing in on the one life-partner-to-be, even if they are not spared other serious impediments in their conjugal covenants.

Yes, Hindi movies only! came the demure response from Indira who, though exhilarated at her very first tête-à-tête with an adult male, was still unnerved at the prospect of choosing a stranger to be her lawfully wedded husband for life. Indian marriages, in those days, were really between two families whose collective decision on whether to consummate the match or not was based on worldly wisdom rather than emotions like love (infatuation, the parents would readily decry!)

Who is your favourite hero? was the next natural question from Ashok.

"Dev Anand" her response continued to be demure.

Wonderful! He’s my favourite too! Ashok’s excitement was infectious "Then we must see Teen Deviyan that has just been released!… OK?"

… Indira did not know what to say so remained silent.

"Well, Miss Indira? Shall we make it our first movie together? I hear Dev Saab is as ravishing as ever! What do you say?" Ashok persisted.

OK, but I must get my father’s permission first Indira replied at last.

Leave that to me, I will take care of that. Why would he refuse now? Ashok assured her

Thus it was that the couple, duly blessed & certified by both families to be worthy of each other for life, landed up at the latest film of their favourite film star on their very first outing together after their engagement. The film and the day would forever be etched in their collective memory as a landmark in their lives.

Tilak Nagar Hospital, Mumbai, 26th September 1975

Traffic in Bombay (or in any city, for that matter) is never a motorist’s delight even on normal days. A heavy downpour in the afternoon added to his misery as Ashok had to be extra cautious in avoiding potholes dotting the roads that led his Fiat car to its destination. He would have remained indoors that day, but for the emergency (not the one imposed on the Nation just then!) that befell a much pregnant Indira when she slipped down on the stairs at home.

Dr. NISHA NERLEKAR M.B.B.S., D.G.O., M.R.C.O.G. (London)

Chief Obstetrician & Gynaecologist

The large board displayed at the hospital entrance was reassuring to Ashok whenever he visited it with Indira for her monthly check up. Though there were other nursing homes nearer their home, what tilted the scales in her favour was the perceived lucky hand of Dr. Nisha who was most sought after by couples with complicated cases and late age pregnancies. It took ten years of marriage and fervent prayers of both families at popular temples, dargahs, gurudwaras and churches for the stork to finally visit Indira and Ashok. With fertility centres unheard of in India then, the only resort for childless couples were the abodes of Gods perceived to be particularly considerate to this deprivation. Such Gods are vehemently sought after by childless couples even today by all classes in all regions of India.

Sister, get a stretcher and take her to labour room. I will be there in a minute! the anxiety on the face of the normally cheerful Dr. Nisha only added to Ashok’s tension.

Dr. Nisha! I hope there is nothing serious with… Ashok was visibly nervous.

Relax, Mr. Ashok! Of course not. And even if there is, what am I here for? she assured Ashok before rushing off towards the labour room inside.

Hardly ten minutes had gone by before Dr. Nisha returned to the visitors’ lounge where she found Ashok literally biting his nails. On seeing her Ashok sprang up anxiously.

Mr. Ashok! First of all, relax! There is no danger to Indira or her baby. But her fall on the stairs has resulted in premature rupture of membrane. She will have to be operated upon immediately Dr. Nisha explained calmly but Ashok just did not calm down.

Operation… Isn’t it a danger then, doctor? I’ll have to call my father and mother first. Only they will… Ashok was now a bundle of nerves unable to think for himself.

Mr. Ashok, listen to me! Dr. Nisha showed signs of irritation on her face You are an adult and an educated man, aren’t you? And Indira is your wife! So, you alone will decide and right now! seeing no response from Ashok, the doctor prodded him further these days Caesarean section is a routine procedure! So, please sign the consent form the nurse will give you now. I’m going ahead with the operation, there’s no point in making Indira suffer any more. You can then call your parents…and hers too!

Without waiting for Ashok’s reply Dr. Nisha returned to the labour room for wheeling Indira to the operation theatre.

The next sixty minutes were the most anxious moments Ashok had ever gone through in his whole life. His mind was alternately battered by feelings of fear and guilt. What was keeping his parents and in-laws from reaching this Godforsaken place? Ashok repeatedly asked himself, though he knew the answer himself…traffic, what else? In Bombay, as in any other metropolis, you never really can say for sure how long it will take to reach one place from another, but you can bet your last shirt that it certainly will not be a matter of minutes!

Unable to bear the tension anymore, Ashok stood at the door of the visitors’ lounge from where he had a direct view of the road. Minutes dragged by without any sign of his parents. He was about to reach for the pay phone in the lounge when someone tapped his shoulder.

Congratulations! You have a boy, he weighs 2.8 kilograms and is quite healthy. Indira is fine too. She is under anaesthesia and will wake up in a while. Happy now, Mr. Ashok? Dr. Nisha was once again her usual cheerful self. All Ashok could do was let out a sigh of relief and shake the doctor’s hand so vigorously in gratitude that the doctor had to step back to retrieve her hand from him.

This time as Ashok reached for the phone in the lounge, he was stopped by his father who had just arrived along with Ashok’s mother and Indira’s parents. After hugging Ashok by turns, all of them rushed to the post-operative care where Indira was to be kept for the day before shifting her to a room. The baby would be kept in neo-natal care as his arrival was premature by three weeks.

It was late night, well beyond normal visiting hours, when the proud grandparents took leave of an excited but exhausted Ashok, a barely conscious Indira and the just born baby who was asleep with a frown on his face.

Thank you very much, my darling! Ashok whispered repeatedly as he kissed Indira on her forehead and cheeks which only disturbed her.

What are you doing, Ashok? Indira asked trying to get out of her haze of drowsiness.

Being grateful to you! For the wonderful gift you have given me, dear! Ashok blushed.

Bring me the baby, Ashok! Indira pleaded Why isn’t she here, next to me?

It’s not a she, dear, it is a he! We have a beautiful baby boy! He’s premature by three weeks so kept in neo-natal care for now and… Ashok explained the situation like a boy would narrate his first day at school to his mother.

I will not wait till tomorrow, bring him to me right now! Indira ordered.

I wish I could do that, my dear! I’m as eager as you are to hold him in my arms! But darling, we have to be patient!

As his parents consoled themselves on this temporary estrangement from their labour of love, the baby slept elsewhere cosily tucked away in his chamber oblivious to everything around him. The frown on his face, though, was gone and in its place was a half-smile!

Asian College of Journalism, Bangalore (now Bengaluru), 18th May 1996

For all the rhetoric his son had confounded him with, a little more than a year ago, about this new institute founded with the avowed mission of creating young and erudite pillars of the Fourth Estate, Ashok was rather disappointed with the Spartan ambience of the interiors of the college where he landed with his wife unannounced for the convocation of the second batch of students which included their son. Ashok also did not notice any buzz normally associated with such an event. Even as he was wondering whether he had made a mistake about the date, he was accosted by a middle aged pleasant looking man in a dark suit passing by the information counter where Ashok and Indira had been standing for a while.

May I help you, Sir? the man asked Ashok politely.

I have come to attend my son’s convocation supposed to be held today. But I do not see anyone students here. Has it been postponed? Ashok enquired.

No, Sir. The convocation is taking place today but not here the man clarified Keeping in view the size of the crowd expected, we felt it appropriate to hold the ceremony in a place larger than our own conference hall upstairs. The ceremony should begin in another hour in the Banquet Hall of Hotel Ashoka. Do you know where it is, Sir?

I’m afraid not. We live in Bombay and have just arrived for this event Ashok confessed.

Don’t worry, I’m going there myself. I will take you with me if you can wait for a few minutes, Sir the man offered Meanwhile, kindly be seated in the lounge.

Very kind of you. My son is not expecting us, we wanted to surprise him! Ashok revealed.

That’s nice! What is your son’s name?

Vinay Kumar Ashok replied and added with a tinge of pride our only son!

Oh, Vinay! We all call him VK. He’s quite popular around here the man responded heartily So you are VK’s parents, is it? So glad to meet you!

The pleasure is ours, Sir Ashok replied as the man went away leaving them in the lounge.

Within minutes the man reappeared with a brief case in his hand. As he led Ashok and Indira out of the building he said By the way, I am Niranjan Kamath the college Secretary.

Honoured to meet you, Mr. Kamath. I am Ashok and this is my wife Indira.

Welcome to our college, Mr. Ashok and Mrs. Indira! You have come on a very special day Kamath acknowledged I’m sure this day will turn out to be very special for your son too!

Both Ashok and Indira were awestruck by the crowd as well as the atmosphere that filled the convocation hall in Hotel Ashoka. They could not find any seats close to the dais and had hardly settled down in their seats in the rear when the ceremony began with an invocation befitting the institute and the occasion: Gurudev’s immortal poem Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high…

The master of ceremony, a young girl student of the college, conducted the proceedings deftly and eventually announced the key note address of the chief guest, a reputed name among Indian journalists. Ashok and Indira, as impatient for the diplomas to be awarded as other parents present were, goaded themselves to pay attention to what was being said. Once the address began, though, they needed no more goading.

"The Dean of this great institution Shri Sunil Saxena, Secretary Niranjan Kamath, honourable faculty and staff members, my young fellow crusaders in journalism, ladies & gentlemen:

I am truly honoured to be present here on this historic day when another group of young soldiers have just joined the never ending battle for truth that has today become as crucial for our society as air and water are for human life. I salute each & every one of you for having chosen a profession that is as noble and as challenging as medicine, education and justice is. The future of the world we live in depends as much on you journalists as on soldiers protecting our borders or doctors saving our lives or teachers lighting up our minds with knowledge!…" Students and parents alike were spellbound by the chief guest’s message delivered with fervour from his heart "…as I