Night of the Scorpion

I remember the night my mother was stung by a scorpion. Ten hours of steady rain had driven him to crawl beneath a sack of rice…

Hardly had Josie decided to close her eyes and draw up sleep to her chin when she felt a sharp pinprick on her right thumb. Click, pincer-sharp tap. Slow and stinging pain began to fill the whorls of her thumb. Josie screamed as a vague idea scuttled off her mind. Quickly running towards the door, she turned the lights on. Having parted with his poison, flashing its diabolic tail, a sleek scorpion was running away from the straw mat towards the inviting darkness under the old cupboard. Her scream had startled her mother and sister-in-law who were sleeping outside her room thus escaping the attack of the predatory arachnid. Xavier, her husband, walked in with a pakora in his hand. He did not get to finish his late dinner.

I don’t remember the night my mother was stung by a scorpion. I was five weeks old, sleeping soundly through her scream. On the other side of her pillow, my twin was swaddled in an easy dream. Ten hours of steady rain had compelled this pest to slip through the gaps in the thatch roof.

My mother has always been resourceful. She was on that day as well. She quickly called for a thread and tied it around her thumb tightly, hoping to contain the poison. My father put on his shirt, hitched up his lungi, kicked the cycle off its stand and waited outside. He decided to risk the rain again, it would clear off his fatigue, he thought. His wife needed him. This was going to be a story for the kids when they grow up. The cycle ride through pouring rain, peddling through knee-deep water while his beloved’s life was held by a thread!

Meanwhile, Anni-athai and grandmother had picked up the twins, the bosom-warmed embrace placing them high above the creature’s reach. One of has had started to become fussy. That was cue enough for the other. The mewling and whimpering punctuated the rainy night as the family waited for the return of these star-crossed lovers. Five weeks ago, Xavier had miraculously survived a train wreck, limping into the maternity ward with some bruises and a bandaged knee. Was it true? The prediction? The palmist was quite specific about twins in the family, especially if they were boys. Xavier was not destined to raise sons, not even one at a time. The pregnancy was also fraught with complications, he had been told. But Josie was brave, she always was. Even till the moment the doctors rushed her into surgery, she was praying that her wayward twins be saved. Their juvenile attempt to liven up fetal time by playing skip rope with the umbilical cord had proved nearly fatal. Five weeks ago, one had turned blue and both had been quarantined away with fervent prayers and photo therapy to keep them alive. Xavier sighed. So much had happened. And now this…

The curtain of rain slowly parted as a figure hunched over a cycle and another staggeringly supporting both began to turn the corner to Belkis Street. Anni-athai held one of the twins up. See, who that is …See your parents…and quit whimpering you button-nosed brat, she cooed into its ear.

The drenched tableau moved closer and closer.

The family was not prepared for this.

 Xavier alighted from the cycle, steadying himself against the door frame. Josie quietly dragged the bicycle inside, kicked its stand in its place and turned to collect the button-nosed brat from her sister-in-law. The family waited, hoping that an explanation will follow. Xavier’s breathing and the sound of rain water dripping from the roof was all they got. They turned around to see Josie with Little Ms. Button Nose, cooing and cajoling it back to sleep. But there was a faint smirk curling the corners of her lips, eyes slyly looking towards the husband resting outside and the family’s befuddlement.

Once upon a time, Xavier who is the hero decided that he would save his beloved’s life. He had braved a train-wreck damaged knee, fatigue, hours of breathing in baby vomit and poo and torrential rain to ensure that they reached the hospital on time. He had harangued the night attendant to call up the doctor, holding forth on the need for good healthcare and the proverbial complacency of people with job security. He had walked up and down the corridor, checking to see if the pharmacy was open. He had tried to whisper supportive nothings to Josie whose thumb had turned royal blue. He had watched the nurse prepare the syringe, had patted his wife’s shoulder reassuringly – the woman who had had an epidural just five weeks ago. He had seen the needle prick her thumb. Inadvertent wincing. His. A crimson blossoming. And then there was ….nothing. His world melted before his eyes like a car window harassed by rain. When he came too, Josie, thumb bandaged, was applying cold compresses on his forehead. 

My mother only said  Thank God the scorpion picked on me And spared my children.