Real Motherhood Is About This

17 Aug 2008, 0407 hrs IST,
T S Sreenivasa Raghavan,TNN
from The Times Of India

It was a quiescent Sunday evening. The sky was alight in hues of red and purple, and an energetic breeze from the seashore whirred into the bus I had boarded from Cuddallore. I was back from an interview, an unusual one but, more importantly, one that had answered one of the nagging questions of my life.

The meeting with Kalki a transgender friend of mine had answered the question: 'Who is a real mother?' Through my life, I had never got an answer perhaps because the mental illness my mother has been suffering from for the last 43 years had created a chasm in our relationship. I grew up in my grandmother's custody. I didn't expect the question to be answered. But a phone call from the 30-plus Kalki started it all: "I've something to share if you could make it to Cuddallore..."

The stunningly beautiful trans-gender, whose father was a senior DMK leader in Tamil Nadu, is based in Pollachi, some 450 kilometres from Chennai. An arts graduate, she later did her post-graduation in journalism and mass communication. Till recently she worked for an IT giant as web designer before she decided to pursue the career of an independent media specialist.

As I reached the orphanage in Cuddallore, Kalki came running out. "It's been so long since we met," she said warmly. "I'm so happy you came. Meet my daughter, Selvi." It was then that I noticed a child who was playing with toys scattered around her.

I was fazed at first. Suddenly, I recalled a news report I'd read recently in The Guardian: 'Pregnant man gives birth to baby girl.' But I still couldn't believe Kalki.

"Don't tell me. I know you're beautiful. But, I also know..." I hesitated.

It was then that Kalki unfolded her story. In 2006, she and her friends had gone to Cuddallore to hold an HIV awareness camp. It was there that she met Selvi and her biological parents begging at the entrance to a temple.

"The parents were pitch-drunk. They were physically tormenting the child to beg," Kalki recalls. Unable to stand the sight, she approached the mother: "I'm a childless mother. Can I have your baby?"

It was a lie. But Kalki had no hesitation in mouthing it.

"Give me Rs 1,000 and take her. And don't ever bring her back," the mother replied.

Finally as she walked away nonchalantly pocketing a paltry sum of Rs 500, Kalki and her friends were shocked.I learnt from Kalki later that the mother had, in fact, sold the same girl for Rs 2,000 earlier. But the buyer returned the baby soon afterwards when a doctor told him that apart from being malnourished, she had a hole in her heart and would not survive.

But that didn't stop Kalki from doing what she felt right. "Selvi anyway would have died," she avers. "But I said to myself 'First let me make an attempt...'"

Fortunately, Selvi survived and the doctor now says that there's no room for worry, though the child is slightly retarded. "Normal or retarded, I love her...she's my daughter," Kalki told me, holding the baby to her closely. What will Kalki do if the biological mother turns up? "I won't give Selvi up. I may not have given birth to her but isn't there a motherhood that's beyond biology?" she asked.

As I took leave of Kalki and later waited for the bus, I realised to my infinite emotion that the question that had been troubling me for so long had just been answered.

sreenivasa.srinivasa@gmail.com