Even though I knew I was infertile, the groom’s family still proposed to me. On the wedding night, when I picked up the blanket, I was shocked to know why…
My name is Ananya Sharma, I am 30 years old. I thought I would be alone for the rest of my life. Three years ago, after a surgery at AIIMS, New Delhi, the doctor told me that I could not be a mother.
That news took me from heaven to heaven. My boyfriend of five years, Rohan, was silent the whole night, and the next day he sent me only one message:
“Sorry. Come on, let’s stop now.”
From then on, I stopped thinking about wedding dresses. Until I met Kabir.
Kabir Malhotra was seven years older than me, the new branch manager, who was just in charge of my office in Gurugram. He was kind, calm and had smiling eyes. I praised him, but I still ignored him. How could an ideal man choose a woman like me who is incapable of having children?
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However, they took the initiative to contact me. In the evenings when they worked overtime, they would bring me a hot lunch box or hot khichdi. On cold days, they would quietly place a packet of ginger tea on my desk.
When he proposed, I would cry. I accepted the whole truth about my illness. They would just smile and pat my head:
“I know. Don’t worry.”
His family didn’t object either. His mother—Savita Malhotra—came to my house in south Delhi to ask for my hand in marriage, everything was ready. I thought I was dreaming, thinking that maybe God loved me so much that he blessed me at the last minute.
On the wedding day, I wore a red lehenga and sat holding Kabir’s hand to the tune of Shehnai in the yellow lights of a small hall in Hauz Khas. I burst into tears when I saw his soft eyes.
The night of the wedding, I sat in front of the mirror and removed all my hairpins. Kabir came out from outside, took off his sherwani and placed it on the chair. He came closer to me, held me in his arms from behind and rested his chin on my shoulder.
“Are you tired?” he asked softly.
I nodded, my heart pounding.
He held my hand and led me to the bed. Then he took the blanket. I was stunned…
It wasn’t just the two of us lying on the bed. There, a small boy of about four years old was sleeping soundly, his cheeks chubby and his eyelashes long and curled. He was fast asleep, hugging an old teddy bear.
I nodded and turned to him:
“This… Is…”
Kabir sighed softly as he stroked my hair:
“This is my son.”
I can’t speak. He sat down next to his son, his eyes soft and full of love:
“His mother… I had an ex-girlfriend—Mira. At that time, her family was poor, Nani (grandmother) was seriously ill, Meera had left school to do various kinds of work. When she was pregnant, she didn’t tell me. When the child was only two years old, she died in an accident. That’s when I found out that I had a child. For the past few years, the baby had been with a nanny in Jaipur. Now that she was gone, I have returned the child.”
He looked deeply into my eyes, his voice breaking:
“I’m sorry if I didn’t tell you earlier. But I need you. I need a mother for my son. I also want a whole family. You may not be able to give birth to a child, but for me, as long as you love him, that’s enough. I will never lose you.”
My tears flowed, hot. I sat on the bed and stretched out my hand to stroke the baby’s hair. She stirred slightly, her lips moving, and she cried out in her sleep:
“Mom…”
I burst into tears. My heart sank. I looked at Kabir, his eyes filled with fear, I was afraid I might leave.
But I couldn’t go. I nodded slightly:
“Yes… I will have a mother from now on.”
Kabir hugged me tightly. Outside the window, the moon was shining in the Delhi sky, illuminating the small room in Saket’s apartment. From now on, I knew that my life was entering a new chapter.
I might not be a mother biologically, but I could be a mother with love. For me, happiness was enough.