“No, no, NO! I will not do it!” wailed Sumitra, wringing her hands in sheer despair. Her tears had all been expended, leaving a trail of dried salt along her leathery, shrunk cheeks.
“See, there is no point in railing and ranting. It has been decided by Amma and in this household, we all do what she wants. Why are you creating such a fuss?” Ravi asked nonchalantly, least concerned about his wife’s apparent trauma and agony. He could not understand what the fuss was all about. The foetus was just four weeks old. Not formed into even a semblance of a being. They could always have another one but hopefully, this time, a boy to appease Amma. Then everything would go back to being ‘calm...