© Marek Kosmal | Dreamstime.com

The morning sun stared down at the rotting heap of garbage, one among millions across the land. A giant rat nibbled at some food, keeping a wary eye on three dogs busy cracking bones nearby. Two hungry crows pecked away at the contents of a bulging polythene bag.

A man in a white dhoti walked by, freshly bathed. He glanced at the heap, and his eyes opened wide. Did he see right? He turned and looked again. There was no mistaking it. A tiny hand stuck out of the filthy mass. And then it was gone, as his steps quickened towards the temple in the distance. The child must have been born at a most inauspicious, star-crossed moment.

A morning walker came along, Nike shoes striding forward. He pinched his nose, looking distastefully at the putrid collection. When would India change? Memories of last week’s trip to the US came back to mind. Then he stopped, shocked. A little infant lay curled up in the garbage. Must be dead. He recalled reading about abandoned babies. A glance at his chronometer told him to keep moving. Not much he could do. Like the garbage heaps, this was another thing about India that will take time to change, if ever. Too bad. And the walker walked on.

The bai stopped and stared. She knew of newborn females thrown away, just like that. Newly arrived, but unwelcome and unwanted. And so, mercilessly dispatched. She remembered a neighbor telling her of someone she knew who had adopted such a baby. One of the dogs was dangerously close to the filth covered infant. Shooing them away, she hurried off to her work of cooking and cleaning. She didn’t want to be late or lose the job. But she hurriedly made a call from the public phone in the corner shop further on.

By the time Babu and his wife arrived on the scene, the dogs were sniffing at the infant. Parking his bike, he shouted away the dogs. He scooped up the infant in his hands. The baby was alive, barely. His wife took the little body and wrapped it in a clean sheet she had brought. Then they sped away.

On India’s 64th Independence Day, the abandoned baby crossed her 22nd month of life. A cute and healthy child, no one looking at her would guess her tragic beginnings. For her foster parents she is one of their own. Anugrah they call her. And as they watch her play with their other children, they offer a silent thanksgiving for the gift of life, and the gift of love.