Many years ago when I was newly married, my husband a pilot with the Indian Air Force, was posted to Tezpur in Assam. This was a non-family station, so I went there under my own steam, to work in a Mission Hospital and be near my husband. But life was not what I had envisaged. It was work around the clock among a predominantly tribal people. Meetings with hubby were infrequent and brief. To make matters worse, I was pregnant, and the world seemed so unsympathetic to all the discomfort I was going through. Into this stressful period came a redeeming angel. She was old, toothless and unlettered. Yet, she had the wisdom of a sage and the compassion of a saint. “Consider these merely temporary inconveniences, daughter,” she said, “Your body is changing in readiness for the needs of your child. Look how God has specially designed women to bring life into this world.” She was convinced that the child in my womb could feel and hear everything I did or said. And so it behoved me to stay happy, unless I wanted a cranky irritable child on my hands. I called her ‘Buddy’ (old woman) as she gave no other name. She nursed me through my morning sickness, and after a hard day’s work, her gentle hands would massage my tired limbs. When I worried about my husband’s safety as he flew back and forth to the border where hostilities were rife, she would confidently affirm that God was aware that my little one would need a father, and so would keep him safe.  Buddy made me feel special. She psyched me into becoming a happy and confident mother. I began to think of the marvel of life within me and the Master Designer who had ‘fearfully and wonderfully’ created my baby right down till the last DNA curlicue. It was His special gift to me and my husband. I felt closer to God and began to ponder over His immeasurable love. One afternoon when I came home for lunch with a smile on my face, Buddy chuckled. “I know you have news for me.” “What?” I asked. “The little person has done a jig today,” she said, pointing at my abdomen. “How do you know? Are you clairvoyant?” “I counted the months. It was time to happen.” It was only a tiny twiddle. But my awareness of another life within me became real. Of course my pregnancy was not smooth sailing. There were ups and downs and my moods were like a see-saw. But Buddy my guardian angel helped me focus on the eventual outcome of my pregnancy. When I moaned about my growing girth and swollen feet she reminded me that the baby was developing well, and so I should have a song of thanksgiving on my lips. She also made me think of the thousands of infertile women in the country, their cries of barrenness, their humiliation, their abandonment! I thought of those who carry their babies till term then lose them for one reason or another. I had to stop my whimpering and send up a supplication for a safe delivery. My quarters was at one end of the sprawling hospital campus. The soil was so fertile that we had an abundance of vegetables, mostly beans and pumpkin. I hated the sweet taste of the pumpkin. But Buddy insisted that it was good for my blood. So pumpkin would turn up on the table in one form or another. Until I had eaten my portion, she would stand over me like some intimidating hostel warden. She would also go into the garden and pluck a few leaves from a shrub, ( the name I can’t remember) crush them between the palms of her hand and apply the juice over my abdomen. “Guaranteed to keep you free from stretch marks,” she’d say, showing me her own abdomen which was as smooth as a baby’s cheek in spite of having seven children.  The grass grew tall, even as high as a person’s waist. One never knew what lurked in the undergrowth. Hyenas howling in the distance and jackals barking in the vicinity were everyday occurrences. So when I was on call, Buddy would always accompany me, leading the way with a lantern, and brandishing a stick to chase away any creatures of the night. The war situation became grim. The Expats in the hospital fled to Calcutta to be safe. The nurses and other staff went back to their respective homes, and the patients were discharged. I was in the eight month of pregnancy and it was time for me to leave as well. “You too must go,” I told Buddy. “Got no other place to flee to,” she said, “Perhaps I’ll meet someone else to whom I can lend a helping hand.” I knew how much I was going to miss her. I often wonder if she lived to cheer up other lives like mine. Sometimes I look at my daughter and am convinced that something of Buddy’s confidence and joie de vivre  has been transmitted to her. The world would be a better place with kind and helpful people like her. Today, when anxious mothers-to-be come to my clinic, I always remember to give them the advice that Buddy gave me- “Be active, be cheerful, and be thankful to God for making you a mother,” because women are to that honour specially born.