Here I lie in the soil beneath, still fighting with my last breath. Tenacity is starting to betray me while I move my tiny limbs vehemently to push open the doors to life. My fingers, they are still not grown enough to catch hold of even the dead end of a thread, yet I tried to cling on to mom’s bed sheet. He snatched me away from her clutches but she remained unmoved. Dad looked at my face for one last time in the foyer; my maudlin eyes sought mercy but his averted. He carried me in his lap and led me to terra incognita, with personalized calm. Serene Air filled that place, defined by the holy crosses on every white plinth adorned with floral garlands; I looked up to dad and smiled in gratitude. I felt secured tucked to his corduroys and held him as tight as I could. Every breath of his could be felt on my forehead, that warm breeze caressed my thin hairline and took me to a world divine. He hugged me as if we were never to part, at least that was what I thought and engulfed into the realms of lullaby-land.
A few months ago, when I was conceived, it was mirth all around. Unlike now, each movement of mine was monitored with assiduity of impeccant aficionados. They hailed me as the meaning of their life, an angel blest by Theo. I was a holy omen for many reasons, one of which, as they said was dad’s getting promoted to the Head of the Department of Economics, the day I was first diagnosed to be present in mom’s womb. My father was a professor in a government college; they called him a man of principles while mom was a house maker, timid and demure. My family was not endowed with effusive riches, yet they could eke out their living with necessary luxuries (certainly not an oxymoron in today’s world) – an air conditioner, a family car, etc. Our household had a placid environment, if you consider the usual melee as part of marital milieu.
They say devotional music has positive influence on the unborn kid, but the only tune my ears were accustomed to was Tring! Tring! The poor telephone set was subjected to repeated shrieks, shrills and borrowed laughter. My family, their friends, friends’ friends, relatives and their relatives, all crooned the coloratura in legato- “An angel divine was about to arrive”. My room was gussied up with toys, teddies, inter alia; there lied a cradle in the corner waiting to be swung. Baptism was rather a distant dream, yet list of my names were already being piled up in diaries distingue. My tiny shoulders, already tired of fighting for space in the impasse inside, were further burdened with expectations of my progenitors. While Dad sculpted my future in Beckham’s golden boots, mom wanted me to emulate Tom cruise. By every passing day, with my growth grew the size of the alley (read: mom’s belly). Suddenly in the hour of midnight, mom started screaming in excruciating pain, the doctor declared- I was finally about to arrive. Mom was shifted to the Operation theatre and the corridor outside filled with tensed breaths. Emergency caesarean was called for and after the grueling session was successfully over; the nurse came out with me in her lap and enunciated, “Congratulations! It’s a girl” The last word hit all like collective crucifixion. The excitement vanished in a snap and glowing faces turned gloomy. The effluvia caught up with everyone and the whole hall began to murmur curses like starved ghouls. Rest occulted my dizzy eyes and I woke up to find my nape under firm grip of my begetter.
Dwelling moribund here in the Valhalla beneath, I thank my parents- for letting me sojourn the world outside/ for holding me in their arms, even if for a while/ for those 9 months of Elysian entwine.
“Oh! Resident of the empyrean, ain’t I a Seraph alike?”
Image Source: [http://channel.nationalgeographic.com/staticfiles/NGC/StaticFiles/Images/Show/22xx/222x/2228_in_the_womb-4_04700300.jpg]