Forty eight years ago
The midwife stood at the door of the delivery hut, looking out into the moonless night. A storm was gathering. Black clouds loomed overhead. Trees swayed wildly in the screaming wind. Rain hammered on the windows and the roof.
She flinched as a massive flash of lightning lit up the sky. The crack of thunder followed.
A jackal howled somewhere in the distance, an ominous sound that raised the hackles on her skin. Then more jackals howled, followed by the cries of wild asses, vultures and crows.
The hour is nigh, the midwife thought.
She turned to the very pregnant woman writhing in pain on the thin mattress, drenched in her own sweat.
“Come on,” said the midwife, kneeling down by the bed, “Push!”
The woman reached for the last ounces of her strength, clenched the edges of the bed with a force that turned her knuckles white, and let out a guttural cry. And out popped a tiny baby, eyes shut, a scowl on its tiny face.
The midwife picked up the infant by its legs and smacked its bum.
Outside, the rain lightened. The wind stopped. The first rays of dawn scattered the dark clouds. A hint of sun appeared between two tall mountains.
“Mo….di….ji…,” cried the baby, with an accusatory look at the agent who administered the first of many slaps to come.
The exhausted mother collapsed in relief.
The midwife broke into a smile. She wrapped the baby in an old muffler, and placed it beside the mother.
“Political revolution has begun,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “Bharat jaldi badlega!”
***
Happy birthday, Arvind Kejriwal!