Recipe of Chingri Malaikari

“How do they get the milk out of coconut?” Ajit wondered in his mind. He had been trying hard to figure out the recipe of Chingri Malaikari for his dear daughter Neha, since quite a few days now. Burying his nose into his wife’s Bengali recipe book for 3 entire days could not help him solve the mystery of coconut milk. And he was adamant to not buy the tiny sachets. He wanted his daughter to taste the authentic Chingri Malaikari.. like him, even she was a fan of prawns. A sweet memory surfaced.. Brinda, his wife, had been such an amazing cook. Nobody could ever cook like her. The last time she cooked Malaikari for him was some 18 years ago. Oh, how he missed her. The smell of her still seemed to linger in their tiny 2-BHK flat. And their little tiffs over forgotten packets of Haldis and Jeeras and what not were all memories now. Memories that helped him live. Memories that didn’t let him stray far from his responsibility. Memories that still kept their love alive. He didn’t realise how the sweet memories interconnected themselves with the bitter memory that was formed exactly two days after his little girl was born. The white stone table.. the crumpled sheets with blood stains.. the giggle of nurses… the doctors with their bored, uncaring and annoyed look.. Brinda looking around stoically. It was all so bitter. Brinda had gone to bed early the night before his daughter was born. She had complained of uneasiness before going to bed but drifted off to sleep as soon as Ajit turned the lights off. He wasn’t particularly worried because during their last visit to the doctor, he was told that it was completely normal in the last two months of pregnancy to feel a little uneasy every now and then. But, everything turned haywire for him when Brinda woke up with a sharp spasm of pain in her abdomen a few minutes later. It was like his worst nightmare coming true. His beloved wife was writhing in pain and he was all but cold with fear for a couple of seconds. Then, gathering all the courage his guts could muster, he got out of the house and practically begged his neighbour, who was an auto-driver to help him take his wife to the nearby Government Hospital. It was the first time a woman from their family was going to give birth in a hospital, and he had really tried hard to arrange the money for a private hospital. But now that the baby was coming two months early he could all but afford the nearby government hospital on his meagre peon’s salary. On reaching the hospital, his wife was made to stand outside the labour room in a queue.. when the pain got unbearable, Brinda lied down on the floor in front of the entrance to the labour room, which then, forced the doctors to take her inside and put her on medication. Ajit had insisted on going inside and after a lot of persuasion and talking with his wardboy friend, he got entry into the labour room. The only patient there, for now, was his Brinda. She was lying down on a white stone table covered with a bedspread with old blood stains on it. Just beside that were two more stone tables and one of them was covered with a black bedsheet. On enquiring from his wardboy friend, he found out that the black table was used to deliver babies of HIV positive patients. While turning his attention back to the entrance of the room, he noticed around 3 doctors entering the room. A woman and two men in their early twenties. As soon as the woman entered the room, she took the entire charge of Brinda’s delivery. She spoke to the nurses and instructed them to prepare everything. Then, turning back to the two young men, explained something to them in fluid english while pointing at Brinda. Ajit could not understand anything except that they were talking about Brinda. Turning his attention back to his wife, he noticed that fatigue was catching up with her and she was on the verge of passing out. But, she still kept pushing. Her knuckles had turned white and she was biting on her lips to not let any sound escape. They were told by friends and family about how doctors got angry if the patient made any noise during their delivery. According to the doctors, the patients apparently exaggerated their pain by crying louder than it hurt.
However, Brinda’s fatigue was noticed by the other doctors as well and all of a sudden one of the two young doctors came ahead and gave a push to Brinda’s belly without any warning which tore a cry from her throat. “Amar shamne eishob nekami ekdom korbi na. Khub bhalo jani je kono betha hocche na. Chup chap shue thaak, amader kaaj korte de “ (“Stop this melodrama. Im well aware that you are not in pain. Lie here quietly and let us do our work”) Snapped the lady doctor instantaneously at Brinda. Ajit could see the hurt in Brinda’s eyes. She was a very timid and polite girl. The pain of labour laced with the bitter words of the doctor was taking a toll on her mind. Tears spilled from the corner of her eyes and went unnoticed by everyone. Everyone except Ajit, who was not allowed to come close to her table. They injected her with anaesthesia shortly after. The doctor, who was in-charge, informed the two interns that the effect of anaesthesia would last for 30 minutes and they should try to do the sutures before that. But, Ajit clearly remembered that after the episiotomy, which he later came to know was not a necessary procedure in every delivery, had gone wrong while the woman was demonstrating the procedure to the interns while making the cut, thereby depriving his pregnant wife of whatever little privacy she deserved in her vulnerable moment and also making the cut longer than was required. They had stitched the cut around two hours later from when anaesthesia was given to Brinda. So, during the suture a cry or two escaped from the lips of Brinda and was met with supreme disdain from all the doctors in the room, instead of the congratulatory note and the words of comfort that the new mother deserved. After detaching the placenta and stitching her up, they shoved their daughter into the weak hands of Brinda who was now slowly drifting to unconsciousness. By the end of the entire procedure, Ajit had tears in his eyes. But the face of his daughter and wife together, momentarily made him forget about the last couple of hours. However, his joy was short-lived. Brinda passed away two days later due to internal bleeding, he heard the nurses speaking that had it not been for the excessive blood loss during episiotomy, she might have lived for another day and given time to the doctors to treat her. Ajit was hysterical after the death of his wife. He wanted to sue the doctors but his friends and acquaintances told him that this was just how things are done around here. And he was just unlucky. Destiny had different plans for him. And that he should atleast think about his daughter, who needed him. He came back to an empty house with a tiny human in his arms. And he didn’t realise how and when this tiny human became his entire universe. She reminded him of Brinda and that made him love her even more. He never blamed their child for the untimely death of his wife, for all he knew, if it were not for her he couldn’t have survived the loss of Brinda. Their daughter and her memories were enough to keep him going.. and he did carry on with life… 
A thud from the living room pulled him out of his reverie. And he noticed that his eyes had grown moist. He quickly wiped any trace of moisture with his hand.
***

Neha walked cautiously in the saree and prayed feverishly to god to not make her fall flat on her face. She had gone to her friend’s house and cooked Chingri Malaikari for her father. And her friend helped her wear her mother’s saree. On her 18th birthday, she wanted to surprise her father. He had been doing everything for her since the last eighteen years and this one time, she wanted to do something for him. For her father, who was also her best friend, her mother and her entire family. Clutching the tiffin carrier with one hand and her saree plaits with the other, she entered his room to find him sitting on the chair and rubbing his eyes. When her father turned to look at her, he couldn’t hold his tears back.. she quietly opened the tiffin carrier in front of him and with a trembling voice, told him “Baba, Chingri Mach’er malaikari. Ami baniyechhi.” (“Baba, I have cooked Chingri Malaikari for you”)