The waiting room is serene except for the hypnotic tick of the imported metal clock hanging on the wall and squeaky wheelchairs. A smell-evoking image of latex gloves and a stethoscope hang in the air. A medical team works behind the closed door of the ventilator. The white-washed walls in the waiting room reveal not a single spot of dirt. The navy carpet is woven, and there are a few plants on the windowsill. On a positive note, lavender brings a sense of ease. And the entire waiting room is pervaded by a metallic tang from stainless steel furniture.

The sight of medics makes Saroj more emotional because his daughter aspires to become a nurse and serve the sick. At that moment, only God knows whether his daughter’s dream will ever come true. His friends, relatives, and acquaintances around him are busy playing games on smartphones, talking, and reading health magazines. As the silver handle turns, his eyes get fixed on the large wooden door. The door creaks open, and a middle-aged doctor steps out and says, “We are sorry. Your daughter is no more. We must always hope for the best and prepare for the worst throughout our lives.”

Everyone in the room starts crying.

Saroj was constantly looking at his wristwatch. He was getting late. His only daughter had obtained a GPA of 4 in the SEE. Saroj and his wife were illiterate, but they wanted their daughter to be educated and live a respectable life. He had a special plan to surprise his daughter with a gift and congratulate her on achieving an outstanding result. He didn’t have money, but there was no way he was not going to celebrate his daughter’s achievement.

As Saroj pedalled his rickshaw on the highway, he saw a storm coming in the distance. From where he was, it usually took two hours on a rickshaw to reach home. As he made his way home, it started getting darker and claps of thunder started breaking. Saroj tried his best to speed up by pedalling his rickshaw with all his strength. Soon, it started drizzling, but Saroj didn’t let it deter him and continued on his rickshaw. But as the drizzle turned into heavy rain, the visibility got so poor that he had no option but to halt his rickshaw and seek shelter at one of the few houses on the side of the highway.

He knocked on a door of a house. An elderly lady answered, “Who are you?”

“Aama, I’m a rickshaw puller. Will you please let me stay in until it stops raining?”

“Sure. Please come in.”

“Thank you.”

“You are thoroughly drenched. Dry yourself with this towel.”

“Ok.”

The hut reeked of dung. A large bedsheet divided the hut into two rooms—a kitchen and a bedroom.

“Aama, can I have a glass of hot water?”

The quiet and the rainfall made the place feel more remote and deserted than he’d ever imagined.

“Do you live alone?”

“Yes, babu.”

“Why? Don’t you have a family?”

“Yes, I do.”

“My husband lives with his second wife, and my son is in Australia. Since he got married, he hasn’t come to Nepal yet, and it has been many years since he last called me.”

“How strange!”

“Babu, I went to different temples and promised different gods different things to be blessed with a son. God listened to my prayer, but the son turned out useless.”

The old lady asked Saroj to rest for a while and then have dinner with her. Not wanting to trouble the lady, he declined her offer, but she insisted. She quickly prepared a simple rice and vegetable curry meal, and the two sat down and started eating it.

“Babu, who are there in your family?”

“We have a daughter.”

“Only a daughter?”

“Yes, she just passed SEE.”

“That’s good news!”

“Are you planning to have a son as well?”

“No. We are happy with the only daughter. We want her to get a good education, be independent, and care for us when we grow old.”

“Won’t it be difficult for you to live in society?”

“Yes, it will. But due to education and technology, people’s perception of gender is changing slowly. My relatives and neighbours who have sons still boast that they are luckier than those who only have daughters. For me, both sons and daughters are two sides of the same coin. My wife and I never prayed to God to bless us with a son. Gender does not matter. What matters the most is what kind of person you are.”

“What does your daughter want to be when she grows up?”

“She wants to study in Kathmandu and become a nurse. She wants to serve sick people. If she doesn’t get a scholarship, I’ll sell the small plot of land I have in my name to fund her educatio. I’ll leave no stone unturned to help her achieve her ambition in life.”

The clock on the wall had already struck ten, but the rain still hadn’t stopped. Saroj decided to take shelter in the hut for the night. Before lying in bed, he tried to contact his wife one more time, only to see that there was no cellphone network. He was restless in bed, thinking that his family would be panicking. Even at midnight, he was still thinking about his family. Saroj got up early the next day, bid the old lady farewell and made his way home.

After cycling for a little over an hour, he reached the gates of his home. He was surprised to see a large group of people gathered in front of his house. He wondered if all these people had come to congratulate his daughter for securing top marks. People stared at him with sympathetic eyes as he made his way through the crowd. This puzzled him. When he reached his house’s door, he saw his wife sitting on the floor and sobbing.

“Where is chhori?” he asked softly.

“She is in the hospital, fighting for her life.”

Saroj couldn’t believe his ears.

“What are you saying? What happened?”

“When you didn’t return home at your usual time, she insisted on waiting for you on the porch. She wanted to be the first one to share the news about her result with you. Since it was raining with bolts of lightning and thunder, I told her to stay indoors, but she didn’t listen. When I went inside our room to get my phone to call you, a bolt of lightning struck our daughter.”

As soon as he heard this, the paper gift bag in Saroj’s hands dropped. A brand new mobile phone, a dream catcher, a perfume bottle, and make-up items scattered on the floor. Saroj fell to his knees and started wailing. He suddenly got up, climbed on his rickshaw and headed toward the hospital.

Sherma is the Head of English Department at Euro School.