'Some babies come from mummy's tummy. Ours came from Nagaland'

Baba, how old was I when I came from Nagaland ,” my four-year-old nephew asks my brother. He is told that he came from the hospital from his mummy’s tummy. The boy immediately returns to the corner where the kids are conferring. They put their heads together and decide there are two types of children : those who come from hospital and those who come from Nagaland. Problem solved. Unlike adults, children make things very easy and uncomplicated.

When we adopted a baby girl, ‘well-wishers’ sprung up amongst relatives and friends. “But are you sure you will love both your children exactly the same way,” I was asked by an aunty in a family gathering. The room went quiet and tense. I laughed, “Of course not” to everyone’s chagrin. “Do you love your sons and daughters the same way? Or a successful son as the unsuccessful one?” Clearly not. Daughters would be lucky to choose their marriage partners and inherit property in their own names.


So, when people said, “Why adopt a girl when you already have a daughter? Shouldn’t you have balance in the family,” we felt we did not need to balance a family in an unbalanced society. Best to have daughters and raise them to be goons.

We decided on Nagaland on a whim. The CARA website asked us to cite preferences for the age, gender and state from where we wished to adopt a baby. We thought why not choose something far away from either of our states — Maharashtra and Telangana. Plus, Naga babies are super cute. We filled the forms, submitted the documents and waited for months. When the email came with a little photo of the baby, demonetisation had struck the economy. We borrowed cash from friends in Delhi and flew to Dibrugarh. From there a long bus ride on non-existent roads took us to Mon town, close to the Burma border.
We went to the Christian organisation which cared for unwed teenagers and their babies. We had heard about the poor nourishment and ill-treatment of kids at some orphanages, so we were pleased to see chubby and coddled babies there. A six-month-old baby veered towards us on her walker — she seemed particularly keen to reach our two-year-old daughter. When they told us that this is the baby that will belong to us, I sensed an unexpected tug at my heart and felt my eyes fill over. How surreal to come to an unknown place and find your family.

The learning curve was steep. How to manage a baby that finishes off several bottles of milk in a day? Or one who remains quiet the whole day and cries loudly at night? On the flight back home, the milk powder got over. In panic, we started her off on bananas and when we reached home, we immediately fed her khichdi. No ceremony for first solid food; no time to think amidst the madness.
Love came slowly and unwittingly. When she started ambling like a duck around the house, when she smiled at us adoringly or reached out to us with both hands; in the special moments and in everyday life. She relishes life. She wants to dance and paint and build houses. She chats with everyone and makes friends easily. She loves food, from salads to meats. In gatherings where other kids need cajoling to eat their meals, this one happily and messily enjoying her full plate, becomes the envy of all parents.

Worried about the bullying of north-easterners in the Hindi belt, I train her to say “I am a Naga warrior. You know of headhunter tribes? We don’t just kill our enemies. We hang their heads outside.” However, she does not need it. She is a popular girl at school. Everyone says hello to her in the corridors and invites her to birthday parties.

She has questions about her ‘tummy mummy’. We have no answers. A minor pregnant girl came to stay with the church organisation, delivered her baby and gave her up for adoption . Does she think of this baby? Will the baby be able to track her down and meet her some day? Will she then find her answers? We hope she does. That she is able to meet her birth mother, spend time with her and learn about her biological heritage.

In the meantime, we enjoy our privileges. Children are like liquid oxygen. Remember Ajit, the villain in old Hindi cinema? He says, “Throw this fellow into liquid oxygen. Liquid will not let him live and oxygen will not let him die.” Children can make you suffer like that. They also cause tiny heart attacks — when they jump from the chairs or fall from the bed or chew on rat poison. Our daughter has done all of this and more. She likes to apply make-up like a geisha and slather full bottles of cold cream in winter. She also loves us as only children can. She worries about us and tries to pamper us — she brings us flowers from the garden and makes colourful ill-spelled ‘sorry’ cards when we are cross. Life is fuller, brighter with her around.

We urge everyone to adopt. Not for the greater good or for any altruistic motive. Just for pure selfish reasons of finding unconditional love and delight — the greatest accomplishment ever.

Dalwai is a law professor and a writer. Pakanati teaches politics and international relations

(This article has been authored by Sameena Dalwai & Rajdeep Pakanati)