[54] WELCOME
The conversation about the baby had wound down naturally, laughter fading into contented smiles.
Shushila’s announcement had left everyone glowing—hugs exchanged, blessings showered, Minakshi Ma already planning two cradles instead of one.
Karishma stood and fetched a fresh glass of warm kesar-badam milk for Amisha and shushila.
“Le peele.
Baby ko taakat milegi.”
Amisha took it gratefully, sipping slowly while the family fussed around her one last time.
Dadi patted her knee. “So ja ab. Kal subah phir baatein karenge.”
One by one, they began dispersing.
Rajveer Papa and Minakshi Ma headed toward their room, arms linked.
Mihir and Karishma whispered good-nights, still smiling about the double news.
Shatish helped Shushila up, his hand gentle on her elbow (mirroring the way Abhiraj always helped Amisha).
Megha gave Amisha one last dramatic hug.
“Bhabhi, kal subah baby ko bolna jaldi aaye!”
Finally, only Abhiraj and Amisha remained near the staircase.
Abhiraj placed a steady hand on her lower back.
“Chalo, meri jaan. So jaate hain.”
Amisha nodded, taking his arm.
They started up the stairs slowly (her steps careful, his support constant).
Three steps up.
She stopped suddenly.
Her hand flew to her belly.
A sharp intake of breath.
Then a low, pained groan.
Abhiraj froze.
“Amisha?”
She curled forward slightly, face contorting.
“Abhiraj… dard… bahut dard…”
Another contraction hit (harder, faster than any Braxton Hicks).
She cried out, gripping the railing.
Abhiraj’s heart slammed against his ribs.
Labour.
Early (the doctor had said any day now, but not tonight).
He scooped her into his arms instantly (one arm under her knees, the other across her back, careful of the bump).
“MIHIR! CAR! ABHI!”
His voice boomed through the haveli.
Doors flew open.
The family came running (half-dressed, alarmed).
Amisha’s scream echoed as another contraction ripped through her.
Then (warm liquid down her legs, soaking her gagra and his kurta).
Her water broke.
Abhiraj didn’t flinch (just held her tighter, her weight nothing in his arms).
“Shh… main hoon… bas thoda sa door hai hospital…”
He strode down the stairs, her body shaking with pain against his chest.
Minakshi Ma was already crying, “Beta… bhagwan… jaldi!”
Dadi shouting blessings, “Hey Ram, safe rakhe!”
Mihir had the Jeep running at the entrance in seconds.
Abhiraj carried her out, settled her in the back seat, climbed in beside her, pulling her half into his lap.
Her clothes were wet, his kurta soaked, but he didn’t care.
He held her close, one hand on her bump, the other stroking her hair.
“Breathe, meri jaan… breathe with me…”
She screamed again as another contraction hit, nails digging into his arm.
His heart clenched (he had prepared for this, read books, talked to doctors, steeled himself).
But nothing prepared him for seeing her in this much pain.
The Jeep sped off into the night (Mihir driving, Karishma in front calling the hospital).
Abhiraj rocked her gently, voice steady despite the fear clawing inside him.
“Bas thoda hi door hai… main hoon na… hum pahunch jayenge…”
Amisha sobbed against his chest.
“Abhiraj… dard… bahut dard ho raha hai…”
He kissed her forehead, her temple, her tears.
“Main hoon… baby aa raha hai… hum saath mein hain…”
The haveli lights faded behind them.
The hospital lights waited ahead.
And in the back of the speeding Jeep,
the strongest man in the village held his wife through the worst pain of her life,
praying with every heartbeat that both his worlds would make it through safe.
The baby was coming.
Tonight.
The hospital corridor outside the delivery room was cold and sterile, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.
Abhiraj stood against the wall, arms crossed tight, jaw clenched so hard the muscle twitched.
Every scream from inside pierced him like a bullet.
Amisha’s voice (raw, broken, pleading).
“Abhiraj… dard… bahut dard hai…”
He had killed men with his bare hands.
He had stared down death without flinching.
But this—this was different.
This was his wife, his Gulabo, in agony because of him.
Every cry replayed in his mind:
her begging for it to stop,
her sobbing his name,
her body tearing to bring their child into the world.
He had put her in this pain.
His fists clenched until nails bit into palms.
Family stood around him, faces pale.
Rajveer Papa pacing, eyes red.
Minakshi Ma crying silently into her pallu.
Dadi sitting on a plastic chair, lips moving in constant prayer.
Mihir, Shatish, Mihir—all helpless.
Megha and Karishma holding each other.
No one spoke.
Just the screams.
Then, suddenly, they slowed.
Weaker.
Fainter.
A nurse rushed out, face tense.
“Sarpanch ji… andar aaiye jaldi.”
Abhiraj didn’t wait.
He pushed through the doors.
The delivery room hit him like a physical blow.
Blood.
So much blood.
On the sheets, on the doctors’ gloves, on the floor.
Amisha lay on the bed, legs in stirrups, face deathly pale, sweat-soaked hair stuck to her forehead.
Her eyes were half-open, delirious, body trembling with exhaustion.
The doctor’s voice was urgent.
“She’s too tired… can’t push anymore.
Fainting aa rahi hai.
Aap baat kijiye… usko hosh mein rakho… push karne bolo!”
Abhiraj moved like a man in a nightmare.
First, the blood (his Amisha’s blood).
Then the sight between her legs (skin tearing, baby crowning, everything raw and red).
His heart stopped.
In that moment, he cursed himself.
I did this to her.
I made her pregnant.
I put her through this hell.
He reached her side, took her hand (cold, limp).
“Amisha… meri jaan… mujhe dekho.”
Her eyes fluttered, found his.
Tears still sliding down her temples.
“Abhiraj… thak gayi… nahi hota…”
He leaned close, voice breaking but steady.
“Ek baar aur, gulabo… bas ek baar.
Humara baby aa raha hai.
Tum strong ho… mere liye… baby ke liye…”
She sobbed, gripped his hand with whatever strength was left.
Another contraction hit.
She screamed (raw, guttural, the sound tearing his soul).
“Push, Amisha! Push!”
Doctors shouting.
He held her hand, her eyes, her everything.
“One more… come on… I’m here…”
Her face contorted.
One final, shattering scream.
Then—
A new cry.
Small, fierce, perfect.
The baby’s cry filled the room.
Abhiraj’s head snapped up.
The doctor lifted the tiny, slippery bundle (covered in blood and vernix, crying lustily).
“It’s a boy!”
Amisha’s eyes closed.
She fainted (exhausted, spent, but safe).
Abhiraj didn’t move.
The nurse cleaned the baby quickly, wrapped him in a soft towel, and placed him in Abhiraj’s shaking arms.
He looked down.
A son.
Tiny fists waving, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in an angry wail.
Perfect.
He looked back at Amisha (pale, still, but breathing).
Tears (actual tears) fell from his eyes onto the baby’s towel.
He leaned down, pressed his forehead to hers.
“Thank you… meri jaan… thank you.”
Then he placed their son gently on her chest (skin to skin, even as she slept).
The nurse smiled.
“She’ll wake soon. Both are healthy.”
Abhiraj didn’t let go of her hand.
He sat there, holding his new family,
the ruthless sarpanch reduced to nothing but a father in love.
Outside, the family waited for the news.
Inside, a new life had begun.
And the world had changed forever.