LAILA- My Fairytale Princess

As a kid, I was extremely fond of visiting the babies in the neonatal ICU (NICU). I wasn't allowed inside obviously, but through the glass in the children ward , i'd stare at the little somethings for hours at end. Every time i stopped to look at them , the nurse on duty would swing a cot beside me. Through the corner of my eye, I'd look at the inhabitant of the cot- a beautiful girl- her complexion as white as milk, and rose lips; her soft brown locks would rest loosely on her pink cheeks- and if ever i looked at her directly-she'd break into this million dollar smile and her green eyes would twinkle bright as she smiled- she was pristine- my fairytale princess..


The shy girl that I was , I never really spoke to her, until Aunty Rahil introduced me to her one day.. "Baby Laila" she said..
"Arabic ? " i asked
"Whatever."
I stood there puzzled for a while. Aunty explained Laila knows 3 diff languages- Arabic, English , Filipino .. and she even understands Hindi.I stood their awestruck.
Over the next few days , i started visiting the children's ward more often-less to see the nicu babies, more to meet my new pal Laila. There wasn't a moment her smile would fade.. I started talking to her, taught her my name. She was probably a year older to me, but she was so small, n delicate, n skinny..laila never stood up.
Just out of curiosity i asked laila one day, "Laila, phen anta baba, mama" (Laila, where r ur parents?). For the first time in all those days , her smile was subdued.. n softly she whispered - "Laila don know baba mama" ... through the gap in the cot's railings i gave princess my hand.......


It was only years later I was told Laila lost her parents - her dad,a Saudi national n mum an Egyptian- shortly after she was born,in an accident. Laila survived,but was crippled for life. She was now taken care by the Filipino, Indian and Saudi nurses at the hospital. That was her home, and we were family..

I've lost touch with Laila, and the nurses at hospital.. I wish I knew how Laila is, where she is now...She was the happiest girl I'd ever met despite all that she'd lost.. I really miss seeing her, miss telling her, "I'll be Laila's mama".. we love you Laila, wherever you are. God bless you hunnie..

BABY AASTHA- THE ABANDONED GIRL CHILD

(NAME CHANGED)
North India’s known for its chilly winters. One such winter afternoon, the boys were upto their usual games – and for indian boys a game is synonymous with CRICKET! The Tendulkars and Dravids of the colony, they always attempted 4s and 6s- a shot here, a shot there, some through window panes, others into open gutters- and off the fielders would follow the ball till their fists would grasp the ball firmly, and a satisfactory grin would run across their faces.
Who was to know, one of their gutter shots would be life-saving, literally..
This one afternoon the ball landed into a dirty ‘nala’ with an overgrowth of winter weeds. In his haste the boy chasing the ball fell over- part of it to grasp the ball, and part to show off his Yuvraj Singh heroism.. the ball in his fists, and arms in position to throw the ball to the next closest fielder..but what followed froze the boy in position-a feeble cry sounded from the nothingness of the gutter. The boy bent down closer,searching for he source of the cry-there lay a muddy, deglazed green polybag. Frightened and clueless as he was, he called upon his other playmates.. within minutes a crowd had gathered- the young ,the old, male and female. The cry continued weak and intermittent, but not a soul dared o touch the polybag. People started making guesses in thin air, coaxed each other to pick up the bag, layed down illogical statements on who should be the one to lift the “untouchable”, offered to call up the police .. While everything was being said, there was little being down- until the arrival of the good samaritan – in Mrs. Mridula Prakash.
Mrs. Mridula Prakash, a asociology teacher at Notre Dame Academy, run by the Sisters of Notre Dame (SND), was known to be one of the most approachable person in the colony.. a genuine soul, a woman with a heart of gold-truly a gem of a person.
The commotion outside her house compelled her to step out. On learning the facts of the situation, she stormed through the unyielding crowd, making her way to the scene of crime, despite numerous protests from the crowd. Without any hesitation, she bent down, lifted up the bag, tore apart its ends.. A baby girl, cold and wet, blood stained and muddy, with a clamped umbilical cord, and a flimsy piece of cloth wrapped around carelessly, lay in Mrs. Prakash’s arms. An uneasy hush took over the crowd, and the air was filled with murmurs a many. Mrs. Prakash looked at the crowd in disgust, for a moment that lasted less than a second. Without any further delay, she summoned the ambulance and rushed the baby to the hospital.. the crowd dispersed in a while- some amazed at the presence of mind of Mrs. Prakash, others touched at the sorry state of the baby.
Later was it known, that the baby survived and was adopted by Mrs. Mridula Prakash. The singular efforts of 1 brave woman saved just another Indian female baby from the wrath of a cruel society, for not many baby Aastha’s are fortunate enough...