Last night, Varun fell asleep even before his sleepy mommy finished telling him a story. Vyas was waiting for the little brother to fall asleep and the moment I turned to his side, his arms were around my neck and it was to be the usual mom-son hushed hushed talk to catch up on few stories from the day!
We both fell silent after about 10 minutes when suddenly I felt a butterfly flutter against my cheek. It was a very familiar ‘feeling’. Vyas’s face was pressed against my face and it was his eye-lashes that were brushing my cheek. I planted a kiss on his forehead and told him that this was exactly what I used to do to my mom when I was like him or maybe a little older! And she used to kiss my forehead the way I did!
And then, I told him I miss my mom dearly. He was listening to my heart, for he pulled me closer, held me in a tighter embrace in reply. He was my mom at that instant…
I sent up a silent thanks to my parents for letting their two daugthers bloom into mothers and live to see the world ‘celebrate’ Women’s Day!
Something inside me turned on reading this poem by my sis!
Compulsory imprisonment in the gaol called womb,
Yet no voice in uproar.
The day of release announced,
Creation of Tiny Mother known;
When arrival assured, milk from creepers ooze!
Merely a-day-old Mother,
Her tears run in parallel streams
Her lullaby termed ambiguous.
And finally the day of doom postponed
For the arrival of Unholy Monk.
Oh Monday, How unfortunate!
He clutches her pale tiny fingers,
She’s dazed; Her long lashes flutter. . .
Her pale pinkness hides behind blue
As though poisoned sugar in purest milk.
A loud cry let out by the mother
In reply, the Girl Child lets out her breath. . .
Mankind! Don’t nip her as a bud
Or, you have murdered a mother.
-by Nithya Chander