One starry night

Nitin passed Myra a steaming cup of coffee as they sat gazing at a clear night sky sprinkled with millions of stars, dancing to a celestial song. 

“Are you sure?” Twelve-year-old Myra said looking askance at Nitin.

“It’s alright. We need to stay awake for the meteor shower. A cup won’t kill you,” he said watching Myra as she took a sip. “Be careful, it’s scalding hot.”

She spluttered, “It’s too bitter.”

Nitin laughed and added three sugars. Myra took another tentative sip making a loud sucking noise and smacked her lips.

“Yay or nay?” Nitin asked.

She wrinkled her nose to signify a “maybe.” The two of them turned back to the open sky devoid of light pollution. Myra peered through their amateur telescope, trying to find Saturn’s moons while Nitin pulled up a stargazing app on his phone, and pointed at constellations near and far. It was a clear moonless night and the meteor shower was the cherry on top. There were people around them, some watching the celestial bodies through large high-powered telescopes while others, amateurs, watched from behind their phones or cheap telescopes. Myra switched places with Nitin pointing out Cassiopeia as she read aloud about the vain queen from Greek mythology after whom the constellation had been named. Nitin heard her clear voice and watched her with a surge of affection. At first glance, with her wavy dark hair and wheatish skin, neither dark nor light, skin that changed its hue with the seasons, anyone would think of Myra as Nitin’s daughter. She was his daughter, of course adopted but still. When Soumya, his wife had brought up to him about adopting a child from an orphanage in Northern India, Nitin had prepared mentally for an infant or toddler and they had visited one with that intent. There they came across Myra, who at ten years of age was one of the oldest children.

“Everyone wants the babies, you know. They are cute, it’s easier to bond.” Mr. Awasthi the caretaker said stroking his bushy, silver beard. “Myra is too dark, too old. What can we do?”

Nitin felt a painful pang in his chest, enough to sting his eyes. He felt Soumya’s hand in his own, “We would love to take Myra home with us,” she said.

After piles and piles of dead trees and travel back and forth, Myra flew home with them to Plymouth Meeting, a suburb of Philadelphia. At first, she was reticent, reserved. Soon, however, she opened up to Soumya as she became more comfortable in her new home. Much to Nitin’s secret anguish, Soumya fell into the role of a parent smoothly. After finishing an interesting book, Myra would go straight to Soumya to chatter about it. Sometimes, Nitin would find them huddled over a flowerbed, getting their hands dirty, whispering, and giggling like old friends. When Myra came down with the flu, she wanted Soumya. He third wheeled to the movies with them carrying a bucket of greasy popcorn and a gallon of soda. He wanted to feel like a father but he had only ever spoken to Myra when Soumya had been around. He wanted to give her a hug and play badminton with her. He wanted to drive her to school and help with homework. When she misbehaved, he wanted to discipline her. When she excelled at something, he wanted to celebrate her. He wanted to be there as she went through her first heartbreak. He wanted to drive her to prom, to college, walk her down the aisle. Yet, every time he reached out to pat Myra’s head or tuck her into bed, she stiffened.

Nitin called Mr. Awasthi, the old caretaker and he replied, "Oh she got some unwanted attention from one of our janitors. Since then, she has been weird around men. Its nothing to worry about. She will get over it."

***

“What can I do?” Nitin said to Soumya one night when he realized two years had whizzed by since they had become parents on paper.

“How about camping?” Soumya suggested.

Now, here they were, camping and stargazing.

A helicopter whirred past and Bang! Nitin snapped out of his reverie, Myra shrieked and spilled some hot coffee on herself, “What was that?”

Nitin scanned the astronomy field, it sounded like a gunshot. Nearby stargazers were gawking at each other, suddenly suspicious that someone had brought a gun to an astronomy party.

Myra gasped and clutched Nitin’s sleeve, “Dad, there in the trees.”

Nitin looked to where Myra was pointing. Sure enough, the rim where the astronomy field ended and deep woods began was rustling. Fear gripped him, but Myra, proudly wearing the cloak of curiosity was dashing towards the sound. His cumbrous feet followed her reluctantly. Holding his flashlight in one hand and a pepper spray in the other he prepared to see a black bear or coyote. He walked over stealthily, one-step at a time, and shined a light into the general area of the rustling sound. Blood glistened in the bright light. Nitin stopped and instinctively put an arm out protecting Myra. A deep rasping sound came from inside the foliage.

“Someone’s wounded,” he said with urgency as he walked into the woods to check further.

Nitin saw something brown whimpering, struggling to stand up. A female elk lay wounded, blood pooling at her leg. She let out a howl when her eyes fell on Nitin and Myra. She continued her struggle to get away from them. Her calf was nearby, watching them with eyes as wide as saucers. Some of the stargazers had gathered around.

Nitin said, “Must be a hunter. He will be here any minute.”

“What do you mean a hunter?” Myra asked wide-eyed like the calf, staring at the elk.

“Hunting at night is illegal,” one of the stargazers, a gangly man with long hair said, “Especially long-distance hunting.”

“This is too close to our observation field,” a short portly woman said her voice shaking, “It’s an accident waiting to happen.”

“I am going to call the rangers. This area is closed to hunting. I doubt the hunter is going to step off his helicopter,” a disembodied voice spoke from within the crowd.

“Hunting grounds should be separate from stargazing and camping,” the gangly man continued.

“Such a violent sport,” the portly woman shuddered.

They all hung back, none of them wanting to get too close to the wounded elk. Nitin turned around as well but Myra stood rooted to the spot, a hand covering her mouth. “We can’t just leave her.”

“Myra, it’s not up to us to do anything. I don’t approve of hunting, but she is wounded.”

Tears were now streaming down her face, “But she will die. She will bleed to death. Dad, I don’t want her to die. She will lose her mother. How will the baby survive?”

“Myra…”

“Dad, please. We should do something to help her. She is in so much pain. Look at the baby, dad. I…,” she sobbed.

It struck Nitin. Myra was an orphan and had spent her whole life in an institution all alone before she had come to live with them. He could not imagine growing up in a prison-like space, devoid of family, and meaningful connections.

“Go get my first aid kit.” Nitin said and Myra looked at him astonished, “We are going to try and save her.”

Myra came back panting, pushing through the horde of spectators with the kit and dropped it to the ground. Nitin saw flashes from myriad devices as he got to work. Myra guided the flashlight over the elk’s leg as Nitin snapped gloves on. He got as close to the animal as possible without agitating her further, washed the wound with saline, and looked for the bullet.

  “I can’t see the bullet. It must be in the bone. She is losing a lot of blood. I am not sure…” he looked at Myra’s panic-stricken face, “But I will try my best.”

He cleaned the wound with gauze soaking it an antiseptic solution and adding in an antibiotic powder for good measure. He then used liquid sutures to keep the antibiotics locked in and stop the bleeding. To his surprise, the elk lay still, as he worked on her wound, possibly from losing blood. When he was done, he patted her leg and she attempted standing up but fell back to the ground. A few people came forward to help the elk stand up on her feet. With a shove and a heave, she stood up gingerly and took a few steps only to crumple back to the ground with a harsh bray. They watched anxiously, wringing their hands, unable to decide their next move.

Abruptly, they were flooded with bright lights as two forest rangers showed up in an emergency vehicle.

Officer Dougherty, a short stocky man with sunburnt skin got out of the ATV and walked over to the crowd. Nitin got a strong whiff of Axe Body Spray as they shook hands. A mustachioed Officer Johnson was right behind him.

“Where is the animal?” Officer Dougherty got to work at once.

Nitin led him to the spot where the collapsed elk was taking shallow breaths, her calf now sitting next to her.

“Must be a young cow.” Officer Johnson said to Officer Dougherty. Then turning to his audience he said, “It’s almost impossible to hunt an older cow because they are so quick.”

“Are you going to help her?” Myra muttered in a barely audible voice.

They brought in a gurney and with the help of the stargazers placed the tranquilized elk on it. Then they tranquilized the calf and placed her in the vehicle as well.

“We want to keep them together,” Officer Johnson winked at Myra as they left. “We will investigate this illegal nighttime hunting. Sorry for the bother.”

  Myra exhaled with relief. Nitin wiped the corners of his eyes. He had saved a life tonight, thanks to his daughter.

“I am proud of you,” he said squeezing her hands in between his own, “for reminding me to be compassionate.”

“That was awesome. When did you learn to do that?” Myra said, grinning.

“When you were going to come live with us, I decided to get some advanced first aid training, in case I ever needed to take care of you. I am so glad I did,” Nitin said grinning back.

They walked back to their set up and continued their search for magical heavenly bodies in the night sky. They had missed the meteor shower but gained something else in return. Myra picked up her coffee, which had gone cold and gulped it down. Then suddenly she reached out and put her arms around Nitin, “You are the best dad ever.”

Putting his arms around her, Nitin gazed up at the sky, the Milky Way smudged as he teared up.