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The poet speaks of how her mother in law had taken as a son a baby orphaned in a disaster, despite having lost everything herself - now the poet's husband!
The poet speaks of how her mother in law had taken as a son a baby orphaned in a disaster, despite having lost everything herself – now the poet’s husband!
All seemed lost, her world desolate Benumbed, she watched, as her fate Twisted in a downward spiral Into the abyss of misery; almost surreal Was the way her life’s foundations were shaken Every shred of normalcy had from her been taken Leaving her stuck in a state of limbo No silver lining in sight, no place to go In a state of shock she spent several days The world around her clouded in a haze… So wrapped was she in her grief she had not realized This was a disaster where everyone around her had died…
She was shaken out of her shell-shocked stupor By a faint cry from somewhere around her Louder it grew, evolving into a lusty wail Of an infant; she forced herself up to follow the trail A baby she found; miraculously unharmed Lying on the rubble, his face red and warm She picked him up, he looked up at her In eager anticipation for someone to douse his hunger
She was brought back to reality from listlessness Self-preservation emerged from some deep recess She knew the safety of the infant she had to ensure She had to gather all strength to endure The ravages of fate in the wake of this disaster With a single aim in mind- to be the protector Of this innocent life; she had to venture out To seek help, she knew that without a doubt She walked for miles with the hungry infant Fearing he would collapse at any instant Until she met some rescuers who had by then Given up hopes of finding live men or women At the verge of physical exhaustion were the duo Her determination to keep the child safe had made her go Thus far, only to realize that fate had taken away Similarly, her family and the child’s parents that day As she realized this, she had an epiphany Making her decide to adopt that child legally She had not wanted children, she thought ruefully In her previous life, but now she was attached to this baby truthfully
She started her life from scratch, bent, not broken Facing flashbacks of the disaster, recurring demons What gave her strength was her beautiful boy Raising him brought to her infinitesimal joy She brought him up as a fine young lad Never made excuses for the tragedy that she had Survived, never repeated her story of resilience Until in their lives I made an appearance When she welcomed me in her fold as a daughter-in-law She told me her unembellished story, leaving me in awe I have for her strength respect immense She is a hero when seen from my lens!
Published here earlier.
Image source: pixabay
I am a woman, a physician, a mother and an aspiring writer rolled into one. I write about various aspects of my life, and my preferred form of writing is poetry (or rhyming verses). read more...
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As parents, we put a piece of our hearts out into this world and into the custody of the teachers at school and tuition and can only hope and pray that they treat them well.
Trigger Warning: This speaks of physical and emotional violence by teachers, caste based abuse, and contains some graphic details, and may be triggering for survivors.
When I was in Grade 10, I flunked my first preliminary examination in Mathematics. My mother was in a panic. An aunt recommended the Maths classes conducted by the Maths sir she knew personally. It was a much sought-after class, one of those classes that you signed up for when you were in the ninth grade itself back then, all those decades ago. My aunt kindly requested him to take me on in the middle of the term, despite my marks in the subject, and he did so as a favour.
Math had always been a nightmare. In retrospect, I wonder why I was always so terrified of math. I’ve concluded it is because I am a head in the cloud person and the rigor of the step by step process in math made me lose track of what needed to be done before I was halfway through. In today’s world, I would have most probably been diagnosed as attention deficit. Back then we had no such definitions, no such categorisations. Back then we were just bright sparks or dim.
Pathaan touted as SRK’s comeback has been in the news for mixed reasons. Right from the hype around SRK’s comeback and special mentions his body contours; yet I can't watch it!
The movie touted as SRK’s comeback has been in the news for mixed reasons. Right from the hype around the movie being SRK’s comeback and special mentions his body contours and even more than the female lead!
For me, it’s not about Deepika’s bikini colour or was-it-needed skin show. It’s about meaningful content that I find is missing big time. Not just this movie, but a spate of cringe-worthy narratives passed off as ‘movies’ in the recent past. I feel insulted, and not because I am a devoutly religious person or a hardcore feminist, but because I feel the content insults my intelligence.
But before everything else, I am a 90s kid who in the case of movies (and maybe more) is stuck in time as it wrapped around me then and the gamut has too hard an exterior for me to crack it open!
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