A Short Story

"Excuse me Ma...Stop Ma...Take it easy Ma... Ma...dam!!!" the nurses walking the corridors sputtered at the woman wailing with scratchings and kickings inside of her stomach as she ran the building clad in nothing but her very flesh, her wrapper in hand.

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Nothing mattered to the woman anymore, all that mattered was getting off her womb the hands and feet that scratched and kicked inside of her womb. The woman did not stop yet she heard them, their voices as distant as the birds chattering away in the bushes nearby. That wasn't the only thing the woman heard, there were few confused patients and their visitors letting go of their problems and worries to urge the nurses to do something, "Cover her body...Attend to her...God is in control...Take her to the Labour room," their many voices fighting into the other to take their meanings away. In the end, it was just high and low sounding vowels and consonants giving birth to chaos that hot Sunday noon. No one did something no thanks to the doctor's absence, but everyone knew something had to be done, immediately.
"Doc...tor..... Doc..tor......I'm dy...ing... Help me..."the woman cried out as she got led into the labour room.
"Everything would be fine Madam," a nurse consoled," Doctor's on his way."

Doctor was on his way no doubt, his way wasn't the woman's way however. One of the nurses approached him panicking through her words," Sir...Sir...There's an emergency. That woman pregnant with a big tummy, I think she's due for delivery."
"How possible? Is the pregnancy not only just 6 months and some weeks? On my way to her ward then..." Doctor uttered in surprise.
"She's at the Labour room Sir. She ran there herself. Her condition is critical."
That was all the Doctor needed as he rushed out of his way for the woman's way. It was some minutes past one o'clock then.
The last thing the woman saw before her eyes failed her was Doctor rushing in accompanied by nurses who couldn't hide their panic, until it was just her ears to fall back on.
The woman's husband flew in minutes later through the doorway, filling the drums in her ears with words from his mouth, words that lost their necessity to the pain aching from within the woman, all that was necessary was getting rid of the pain - the thing scratching and kicking in her womb. The 'pain' lost its life; the woman lay still.
"If only we can save the Mother. The baby may not make it. I just hope we wouldn't have to run an operation." Doctor said to someone but none in particular.
Silence clasped it's palm tightly over the lips of everyone in the room but the woman's husband. He walked to a few inches from his woman then whispered into the drums in her ears already filled by words that did nothing to ease her pain, "Eka, do you want to disgrace me? How am I going to raise the other kids without you? Please don't disgrace me Eka. Don't do this Eka!"
The woman managed to nod amidst her tears. The man managed to hold on amidst his fears. The pain that came from within her womb revisited as the scratching and kicking changed its gear into one that meant she just had to be delivered of whatever it was, at least to save the woman's life.

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It took more than an hour - of pushing her pain outside of her and pulling on to the sheets for support by the woman - before she was delivered of what was inside of her. If we could call 'it' a baby, 'it' wasn't the kind of baby tagged 'bouncing' in any sense of the word. 'It' was transparent with a blueness to it; you could see the very veins and nerves running inside of its almost seven month old frame. 'It' had a pee-hose, 'it' was a baby afterall; he was a baby - not just the regular baby. "Doctor...I think she has another baby. Feel her tummy..." a nurse dragged the attention from the transparent coloured baby back to the woman "...something is moving in her womb."

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Surprise masked the faces of Doctor and the many nurses and the woman's husband and the woman who was regaining her consciousness. How she had moved around with twin babies all the while without her very awareness or that of her husband or Doctor or the nurses was a shocker. There was another of 'it' in her womb, the other 'it' rushed - right after cutting its umbilical cord - into an incubator which would be its new womb for the next two months to complete its cycle. This other 'it' was born frail and transparent like its twin, but he had purple patches on his blue. The stillness of veins and nerves inside of 'it' visible from its outside meant it wasn't breathing, "He's dead! We'd just have to focus on his brother," the doctor announced, "dispose him, he's dead!"
A nurse took 'it' away and disposed it in a waste bin, all attention back to the other 'it' in the incubator. The joy of being delivered of twins without initial knowledge she was carrying one which was supposed to take the whole painful drama away lost its place to the crazy pain of realizing only one of the scratching and kicking hands and feet survived. No one smiled or said a thing, just everyone staring at the surviving 'it' and throwing brief glances at the bin that 'wombed' the other 'it'.

Minutes later, one of the nurses who'd went the dustbin's way to discard the used scissors and gloves and wools and razors came back shouting, "Doctor! The other child...He just coughed inside the dustbin. He's alive!"