If the newborn was a daughter, she was destined to be buried alive. For ages it has happened; it would happen again and Geeta knew it. This has been the tradition of Baari, a small non-descript village, most people in Haryana heard little about. And so when Geeta was pregnant, following the tradition, the priest was consulted. Shortly after the initial struggle under the earthen lamp, his eyes gleamed, “It will be a boy.” he declared smiling.

Geeta, resting on the cot, felt her heart get full. Her entire household at her in-law’s place erupted in joy. So euphoric were they that her father-in-law and her three brothers-in-law along with her husband sat around a bonfire, drank the whole night, and devoured roasted chicken to such quantity that they puked one after another by the time the night broke into dawn.

The mother-in-law made special arrangements for her. She was absolved of all responsibilities; special enriched food was cooked for her. She need not do anything; her job was just to ensure that she produced a baby boy. Since then Geeta stopped ruminating over her child, basking in the glory of the would-be mother. Just another eight months, she thought and yawned.

The whole day she would sleep and yet feel inordinately sleepy when her mother-in-law recited the Ramayana to her. She would eat and eat and asked for more but she was happily served with whatever she wanted. The midwife would examine her from time to time and smile at the progress. Geeta slept again. Days went past and months went by. Geeta ate and slept.

But, one afternoon, a strange dream occurred to her. A tiny fairy flapped her wings and smiled at her. Geeta smiled back at the fairy.

“Who are you?” she asked.

The fairy replied, “Your daughter. I am there in you.” And shot a roar of laughter pointing at her tummy.

Geeta woke up shivering. What a nightmare! She wiped off the sweat from her face. It felt too hot all of a sudden. Sleep deserted her. Now even the thought of sleep created panic in her. What if the nightmare returned? She trembled. Eyes wide open she lay on her bed. No way should those eyelids meet, she resolved. The day passed by and night came. She decided to close her eyes and remain vigilant that sleep did not come. Within moments she saw the fairy come back. But this time she did not laugh or converse. She watched Geeta as though she was watching an alien from a faraway place trying to figure out what to say. Geeta was indifferent to her presence, watching her with a detached curiosity. But the fairy won’t go away. She flew in the air watching her. For long she hovered around and Geeta raised her hand to flush her out as she would do with the mosquito.

“Go away. I don’t want to see you. A boy is coming. The priest has said and he is never wrong. Don’t play with me. Look at how much care I am getting now. They are poor peasants and yet they have sold so many belongings just to make merry. I cannot take that away. Go away … “she threw her arms in the air to frighten the fairy away. But the pixy stuck on.  

“What if I am born? What would you do?” she asked

Geeta was at a loss of words. How true, she thought. If she was born what would happen? The priest would take her away to wash something by chanting sacred words and then wrap her in a spotless white cloth because anything white would be regarded as pure and then a deep grave would be dug wherein she would be laid down with care and covered with the same soil from where we all have come. She may be in deep sleep then and in bliss, thinking she was in her mother’s bosom, protected and privileged. But shortly thereafter, darkness would consume her and she would not even know what happened. The fairy looked too innocent to understand what coursed through Geeta’s heart.

“What do you want?” Geeta asked

“That does not answer my question, Maa.”

“Don’t call me Maa.” Geeta seethed, “Go away.”

The fairy’s eyes turned teary. She gazed at her with the unshed tears in her eyes and drew a deep breath. For a moment her eyes flashed a strange light and then when the light went away, she was no longer there.

Geeta got up from the bed, cursing herself for having fallen asleep. How come she had not seen this possibility till then? She argued within her. Based on hearsay, each one in her family kept their happiness alive. In case a girl was born what would she do? Her heart churned, her body experienced goosebumps recalling those eyes full of tears. Why was she so averse to the idea of a daughter coming to her lap? She too was a daughter of someone who did not kill her at birth. Why should she allow to kill her creation? She rebelled against her resistant heart. But she could not think beyond that; her mind was in waves where no thought could take any shape, each brushed away even before settling to any pattern. She felt ill.

Since then Geeta wished that the fairy came back in her dreams but, she never came back. And strangely enough, she turned desperate to meet her again and on a couple of occasions prayed in front of the idol for wish fulfillment, “I will offer my blood if you fulfill my wish.” She whispered so that none could hear her. But the pixy never materialized in her dream again. Geeta stopped expecting her return.

The midwife came in her usual routine and examined her. Smiling, she looked into Geeta’s eyes and checked around her to be sure no one heard her,

“You are turning beautiful. It is a sign.” She whispered, “With all my experience over fifty years, I can assure you, you would give birth to a girl. That priest is a thug. Match it and keep a gift ready for me.” She bit her lips smiling mischievously.

Geeta was convinced that her dreams were significant; ones with a message. She mulled for hours and days to circumvent the impending murder of her daughter, but no idea came forth. Who could be the key figure who could stop the murder? Her in-laws, like her, were illiterate. No one could give them a word of wisdom. Her brain went heavy thinking a way out. Sleep escaped her.

At night when her husband came to her, she asked him, “What happens if a girl is born?”

In a flash, her husband slapped her and said,

“That is an ill omen. How can you even utter that? Your father gave very little dowry. On top of it, you would bring a liability?”

The invective that followed overwhelmed Geeta and she sat on the bed in a lotus posture closing her eyes as in meditation. But, sitting there, feeling the pain on her cheek recede, a resolve got concrete in her heart. Eyes closed, she recalled the face of the fairy and smiled, “No one can kill you.”

The word ‘thug’ caught her imagination soon after. She was clear it had to be the priest who could make a difference. And if he was a ‘thug’ it had to be a consideration that could make him wilt to the direction she wished him to. The gold plated bangle her mother gave her came in her mind. She had told Geeta how the bangle was passed on from one mother to the other throughout generations as an auspicious gift, bringing luck, “As long as you are carrying it. Luck won’t desert you” her mother had said and she has seen the truth in those words over the days she has spent as a wife. She kept it under the pillow.

The priest met her after a few days. “The midwife told you wished to meet me,” he said.

But the mother-in-law was standing right at the door listening to them. Geeta spoke in an even tone, “Just wished to know if all will be fine. I am growing nervous.”

The mother-in-law interjected, “Don’t worry. Women have this feeling during this time. It is natural. We are all with you.” She said with a disarming grin.

“Panditji might be happy to have a cup of tea.” She said smiling, watching the priest’s questioning glance at her.

“Oh. Yes. Certainly.” The mother-in-law said and went into the kitchen.

Geeta pulled the bangle from underneath the pillow and handed over to the priest.

“For me, it does not matter if my child is a son or a daughter. As a mother, both are equal to me. Who so ever comes, should be safe. Do something urgently so that if a girl is born, she is welcomed too. I do not have anything to give you apart from this bangle. Sell this off and take the money. This is your remuneration.”

The priest lowered his head thinking about something and then he kept the bangle in his pocket and walked away.

A few days later he came back. The entire family assembled to hear from him. He sat on a chair while others sat around him on the ground.

“Now that the day is nearing, it is time that I make another round of calculations.” He said and drew a few lines on the ground, “Whatever I see from here it is important for all of you to know that you will all prosper if a daughter is born in your family. Though a baby boy will come, I suggest you all pray that a girl child is born. If a boy is born it is good but, if a girl is born it would be better. How long will you live in this life of penury? If you pray it is possible that a girl will be born and you will see that a lot of troubles would just vanish. She would be the Lakshmi of your house. But you have to pray with an honest heart.” He said and pointed towards the village temple where he was the priest. “Remember, if your prayer is pure, you would certainly get a girl.” He said and waited for a more definite expression to blossom on the face of the audience but, it was not happening. He waited for someone to break the stoic silence, but no one moved. He nudged again, “none of you are telling me anything. Shall I perform a yajna? I will take no money for it.”

“We will follow you.” The father-in-law said and sighed.

Geeta watched the long faces, the sighs, and the sudden sloth in the movements of each one around her as though a pall of gloom has befallen them. But, they all followed the priest to the temple and sat folded hands seeking a blessing. The priest performed the yagna and each one took their turns to offer the 'ahuti'. Geeta watched through the window of her hut and raised her folded palms to her forehead.

The day finally arrived. The males in the family sat stone-faced at the clearing in front of the hut. Just then the saffron-clad priest, straight from the temple, walked in. The mother-in-law welcomed him in.

“This flower is from the feet of the Goddess.” He said settling beside Geeta on the floor, “I wish to make a small ritual. Alone.” he added folding his hand and closing his eyes.

When alone, he fetched the bangle from one of the tucks of his Dhoti and slipped it under Geeta’s pillow and touched the flower on her forehead chanting something under his nose.

“God bless you. All will be well.” He said and walked out to join the men outside. 

The first cry of the newborn child pierced through the air and the males waiting outside immediately erupted in joy congratulating the husband.