Tale of a Puerpera...

I was then inside you

You lived sad, your eyes dew.

I was to be the victim; I was a girl child

Going to be a dead bush, with Axe’s contrive

You wanted me to live; you dodged the killers

Today I am breathing; I am standing alive.

I lived in your arms always

But you had nowhere to live

I was smiling in your warmth always

But you were cold inside your deep

You were astir always

And me sound asleep.

Not a single utensil we had

But you washed many at your work

I tried to help, lent my hands for you

When I saw your finger bleed

But you revolted & held my hands in yours

Guided me to school to read.

From the savings we hardly did

You preferred to buy me books

Sealing holes in our clothes instead

Today I am able to read and write

I can compete to reach the heights

Just because of you; your mindset right.

You were part of my plays always

Subject for my sketches; all nights & days

Do you remember? My script’s blabber?

Your eyes were amused; your mind in dilemma

And then I had explained, the twisted line schema

I have drawn you; I have written “Maa”.

[India, the nation which has a strong hold of importance today among other powerful nations. Female infanticide and precluding girl child’s rights were dominant until few years ago in some villages and remote interior areas of India. Such practices are getting completely banished by the efforts laid down by Indian Government, and with people’s increasing awareness. But still few evidences of its prevalence come up sometimes. This is a story of a mother who fought against all odds; gave birth to a girl child and made her literate. A tribute from my side to all such mothers our India has.] 

Copyrights - ANSHUL GAUTAM'S

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