Her mother-in-law said, ‘It is destiny, what else?’
Sukeshi remarked, ‘What kind of destiny? She must have forgotten to observe mahatmaji’s exhortation. It is not possible that whatever he pronounces does not come to pass. Tell me, did you observe the Tuesday fast?’
Nirupama replied, ‘All the time. I did not miss out on any fast.’
‘Did you feed five Brahmins every Tuesday?’
‘He never said that.’
‘Of course he did! I remember very clearly that he stressed on it. You must have thought no good can come of feeding Brahmins. But it did not occur to you that no undertaking can be realized successfully unless all the requirements are observed in totality.’
Her mother-in-law butted in, ‘She never made any mention of this. And what are five Brahmins anyway? I would have fed ten of them! We have the means, by God’s grace.’
Sukeshi remarked again, ‘It is nothing. She merely forgot. That is all. Dear woman! One is not destined to behold a son’s visage that easily.’
‘She is unfortunate. That is all,’ said her mother-in-law.
Tripathiji: ‘Were these extraordinary things that they could not be remembered? She wants to torment us.’
Mother-in-law: ‘I kept thinking to myself about how the mahatma’s word did not come to pass. For seven years I lit a lamp for Tulsi Mai before a son was born.’
Tripathiji: ‘She had thought that bearing a son was as natural as the fruition of rice or pulses in the fields.’
Sukeshi: ‘Anyway, let the past rest. Tomorrow is Tuesday; you must fast and this time feed seven Brahmins. Let us see how the mahatma’s blessing does not come into being.’
Tripathiji: ‘It is a waste of time. She will not be able to accomplish anything.’
Sukeshi: ‘Babuji, you are a learned and intelligent man, yet you seem so disgruntled. You are still young. How many sons do you want? You will have so many that they will make your life miserable.’
Mother-in-law: ‘Daughter, has anyone ever wearied of looking after sons?’
Sukeshi: ‘God willing, your hearts will tire of them. Mine certainly has.’
Tripathiji: ‘Do you hear that, Maharani? Make no confusion this time. Ask your sister-in-law to explain everything to you properly.’
Sukeshi: ‘Rest assured, I will ensure that she remembers to do everything she has been advised; I will make her write down what food she has to take; how she has to live; how she has to bathe, and Ammaji, eighteen months from now, I will take an invaluable gift from you.’
Sukeshi lived with Nirupama for about a week and fed and instructed her well before returning home.4
Nirupama’s fortune smiled on her once again; this time Tripathiji felt so contented that his anticipation of the future made him forget all about the past. Once again, Nirupama began to reign like a queen instead of being treated like a slave; once more, her mother-in-law began to encourage her to take up the challenge of giving birth to a male heir and people began to look up to her expectantly.
The days began to pass; sometimes, Nirupama would say, ‘Ammaji, today an old woman came to me in my dream, called out to me and gave me a coconut, saying that it was for me.’ Sometimes she would say, ‘Ammaji, I cannot fathom why, but this time I feel very excited, I feel like listening to songs and bathing in the river to my heart’s content; all the time I feel I am under the influence of some kind of intoxication.’ Her mother-in-law would listen to her, smile and respond, ‘Bahu, these are all positive signs.’
On the quiet, Nirupama began to send for some majun and having had it and despite knowing the truth she would venture to ask Tripathiji, ‘Do my eyes look red?’
Unaware of the facts, Tripathiji cheerfully replied, ‘It seems as though you are intoxicated. This is a happy sign.’
Nirupama had never been that fond of fragrances but now she could die for the sweet scent of flower gajras worn on the wrist.
Now, every day, before going to bed, Tripathiji would read out stories of brave men from the Mahabharata for Nirupama, and sometimes he would relate accounts of the valour of Guru Govind Singh. Nirupama was particularly fond of Abhimanyu’s tale. The father wanted his son to be born with an instinctive awareness of heroism and valour.
One day, Nirupama asked her husband, ‘What name will you give the child?’
‘How good that you have thought about that! I had forgotten all about it. He should be given a name that distinctively strikes a chord of heroism and brilliance. Think of such a name.’
Both of them began a discussion about suitable names for the unborn child. A list of all possible names was prepared, right from Jorawar Lal to Harishchandra but nothing seemed appropriate for this extraordinary child. Finally, the father said, ‘How is Tegh Bahadur?’
‘This is it! This is the name I like.’
‘It is certainly a fine name. You have already heard about the valour of Tegh Bahadur. A man’s name has a strong influence on his personality.’
‘There is so much in a name. Every “Damdi”, “Chakaudi”, “Dhurhoo” and “Katwaroo” that I have met has exemplified the meanings of his names. Our son will be called Tegh Bahadur.’5
The time for the child’s birth arrived. Nirupama knew that she would deliver a girl once again but outside the room of her lying-in, all the preparations had been made for a grand celebration. This time nobody had even an iota of doubt. There were arrangements for singing and dances. A shamiana had been set up and several friends and relatives sat under it talking merrily. A halvai was frying puris and dishing out sweetmeats from a large pan. Several gunny sacks full of foodgrains were kept in readiness for distribution among the bhikshus when the news of the birth of the baby boy was
