As Meera surveyed the unloaded boxes, her new, one-bedroom home in Pune felt suddenly cramped. She chided herself for not discarding more before her move from Mumbai. She could have saved money on the movers. But in her emotional state, was such practical thinking even possible?
All Meera had wanted was to leave that city, the one that would keep reminding her of the child who had been a part of her for nearly 36 weeks!
A knock at the door pulled Meera from her thoughts. It was a neighbour, curious about the new arrivals. The woman’s eyes swept over the boxes as she inquired, “Are you alone?”
“No, I have moved with her.” The reply made the neighbour turn around and she was aghast to find a man in a wheelchair.
Ravi guessed she had too many questions in her head, and decided to clarify. After all they were going to be neighbours from now on.
“I have been like this for the past three years. My wife, Meera, a teacher, has been managing everything. We both moved from Mumbai.”
Though bemused, the lady left but not before she offered to get some food. Meera politely declined saying she had packed their lunch.
Post lunch Meera began unboxing the luggage and put away all those things to be discarded. Nearly four hours into unpacking, she opened the last box.
It was inside that, she found the pair of beautiful baby shoes. ‘My little princess would take her first steps wearing these shoes.’ She had said to herself while purchasing them.
The neighbour came knocking, with some hot samosas.
Her eyes fell on the shoes.
“These,” she dragged.
“Well, they are baby shoes, for sale, never worn,” Meera answered on an impulse, her gaze still fixed on them.
“They’re beautiful,” the lady said gently. “How old was the baby?”
The woman immediately seemed embarrassed.
“Oh, sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.
Meera smiled politely. “It’s all right.
The woman placed the shoes back and left, feeling somewhat awkward.
“You could have told her the truth.” Ravi whispered.
Meera shook her head. “The truth belongs to someone else now..”
Ravi sighed recollecting the events three years before.
They had been married for only two years, their plans for a family deferred due to financial concerns. Then, tragedy struck. A runaway truck collided with the garage where Ravi worked as a mechanic leaving him paralysed from the waist down. The subsequent months were staggering; hospital bills, mounting debts. Notices of missed EMI payments became routine.
Doctors eventually advised them to abandon any hope of Ravi walking again.
Then one day a close friend of Meera approached her.
“I know the kind of financial struggles you are going through. A couple known to me are searching for a surrogate mother. The compensation would be high enough to clear every debt you owe”
At first Meera rejected the idea. But poverty has a way of turning impossible choices into practical ones. She eventually agreed.
The intended parents were extremely wealthy.
Meera carried the child for nine months.
She followed every instruction carefully. Appointments, medications,tests followed one after the other.
As the baby grew inside her, Meera felt every kick.
She sang softly and spoke to the unborn baby. Noticing her movements Ravi said, “We mustn’t get attached.” But attachment had already arrived like an invited guest
The baby girl was born on a cool winter morning.
Meera watched as the parents rejoiced. The baby was taken from the hospital.
Meera returned home with empty arms.
For weeks she wandered through the apartment feeling as though something essential had been removed from her life.
The money helped. Their debts vanished. Life became easier with a decent amount in savings.
One afternoon, while in the market, Meera found a pair of pink baby shoes. She bought it to gift it to her baby, not because the baby needed them, but because Meera wanted to offer the baby who had been a part of her for nine months, one small gift.
She arranged a meeting with the parents with the help of the common friend.
They agreed reluctantly.
The child was sleeping in an expensive stroller, more beautiful than she remembered.
Meera held out the wrapped package.
“I bought these baby shoe for her. I wish these to adorn her tiny feet when she takes her first step.”
“That won’t be necessary,” the father said curtly.
“We appreciate everything you’ve done,” the mother said carefully. “But it’s best if we move forward.”
‘Move forward’. The phrase echoed in Meera’s mind long after she returned home.
The shoes remained untouched.
A friend in Pune told Meera about an opening for a teacher in a reputed school. Meera seized this opportunity. She had been longing to move out of the city.
Presently, the neighbour accompanied by a young woman knocked on the door.
“This is my daughter. Her baby will turn one next week. The baby shoes,” she said. “Can I buy them?”
Meera carefully handed the pair, struggling for words to appreciate the magnanimity of the woman. According to her, the true owner of this shoes was no more, yet, devoid of any ominous feelings, she was ready to buy it for her grand daughter.
“Keep them as a gift for the little girl.” Meera smiled.
After a long wait, the baby shoes had found the feet of a princess!