The Story That Made Me Wish for a Daughter
A Page from My Life

This happened during my school days. One day, I read a story, thinking it would be like any other story I had read at that time. But when I finished reading it, something inside me had changed. The story left such a deep impression on my heart that it made me wish that one day, when I grew up and got married, I would have a daughter.

It was a moving and touching story about the beautiful bond between a father and his little daughter. Until I read that story, I had never realized how wonderful that bond could be. From that moment, I felt that every father who has a daughter is truly blessed—and that not everyone receives such a precious gift.

Many years later, I married a caring and loving woman. Toward the end of December 2011, my wife shared the wonderful news that I was going to become a father.

The news filled me with happiness. Yet deep in my heart, there was a quiet wish—it should be a girl.

“What shall we name the baby if it is a boy?” my wife asked.

“How about Aryan?” I suggested.

“That’s a good name,” she said. “Alright, we’ll name the baby Aryan if it’s a boy. But what if it’s a girl?”

I thought for a moment. I remembered a long story I had written earlier called Aryan & Sachika, where Sachika was Aryan’s love interest.

“How about Sanjana?” I suggested.

“That’s a beautiful name too!” she said with a smile. “Alright then—Aryan or Sanjana it will be.”

I simply smiled back.

“Oh baby, are you Aryan or Sanjana?” she asked softly, gently placing her hand on her tummy.

Just then, the baby kicked.

“See… did you feel that? I think it is Aryan!” she laughed, taking my hand and placing it gently on her tummy. The baby kicked once again.

I felt the tiny movement too. I wondered why the baby kicked at that moment. Maybe if he was Aryan, he kicked when we called him Sanjana—or perhaps the other way around.

“All I want is a healthy baby,” I told my wife.

“It doesn’t matter whether it is Aryan or Sanjana.”

Soon we began buying toys for the little one who was still enjoying a peaceful stay inside her—or his—mother’s womb. Most of the toys were meant for a boy because my wife and her family had almost concluded that it would be a baby boy. Occasionally, when my wife wondered if it could be Sanjana, we bought a few toys meant for a girl as well.
When we went for the first scan, the baby’s heartbeat sounded like the most beautiful music in the world to me. I kept staring at the screen, watching the tiny movements of the baby.

We were happy. But the suspense of whether it was Aryan or Sanjana kept troubling my wife’s mind.

After the third scan, she finally asked the doctor if he could reveal the baby’s gender. The doctor simply smiled and said,
“You should be happy that your baby is healthy and doing well. The rest doesn’t matter right now.”

Later she asked me again, “What if it is Sanjana?”

“No worries,” I told her gently. “I’m happy either way.”

Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. And finally, the day arrived.
It was my birthday.

I had ordered a cake and asked the baker to keep it ready by evening so that I could cut it along with my baby.

Soon they took my wife into the operation theater, and the doors closed behind her. I sat outside, anxiously looking first at the clock and then at the door.

At exactly 4:54 PM, the doors opened. The doctors walked out, and a few moments later a nurse came out smiling, holding the baby in her arms.

“It’s a girl baby!” she announced.

She looked so small and fragile that I was almost afraid to hold her. Carefully, I took her into my arms for the first time and looked into her tiny eyes. For a moment, she stared at me—then slowly looked away.

My wife was still not fully conscious. She was shivering from the cold, and I silently prayed that she would be alright.

The nurse handed me a small container with the baby’s blood and asked me to get it tested in the lab. Later, I discovered something surprising—not only did my daughter share my birthday, she shared my blood group too.

That evening, we cut the birthday cake together. The cake had both our names written on it.

I had no words to thank my wife for giving me such a priceless birthday gift.

Now you might be wondering which story inspired me, during my school days, to wish for a daughter.

It was Rabindranath Tagore’s beautiful and touching story, The Kabuliwala.

That story inspired me to write one of my own called Dawn. In that story, I became the father—and even after finishing it, I refused to come out of that role. Through that story, I lived my dream once.

And now, that sweet dream has become a reality.