Moments

By Iti Nautiyal

A loud cry and I was out

From my mother’s big pouch

Where she bore me for nine months

Without knowing a daughter or a son

A relief she breathed high

For the pain was utmost cry

Eagerly she looked for me

Joyed were her eyes to see

Where was I and how was I

Her face was full of question marks

Was I pretty, fair or dark?

Or was I born with a scar

Finally, she turned around

As if something great she found

With all the love and all the lulls

She picked up her cute little girl

Hence I was in her arms

From where I got all the charms

She blessed and nursed me with full care

Taught me to love and to share

My childhood was a pretty fun

Play, walk and little run

Sleeping and eating was all day work

Oh fun were the days without jerks

And as my childhood passed by

Adolescence came with love and shy

Turning over to sweet teens

Wearing shirts, minis and jeans

Looking myself into the mirror

Admiring and adoring without an error

A simple pimple made me sigh

Crying and roaring mountains high

Wondering over calculations

Facing the cycle of mensurations

Every step to the growing age

Was love affection and outrage

And then I threw all the teens

And joined the twentieth dustbin

Blooming in the month of May

It was an age of wonder and gay

Falling in love and dying in pain

Sweating the summers and loving the rain

Being myself in wonderland

Falling in love for any young man

For being young and restless

It was strain and mental stress

And as the future portrayed

Works plans could not be moulded

Finally, I was searched a groom

Nicely shaved and well perfumed

Solemnly and solely we confessed

To love each other and share our best

Then jingled the marriage bells

Blooming the spring and filling the well

Passion and love all was for one

Now with him I cared for none

When blessed with a baby now

I think of my parents and wonder how

How wonderful this life is

Remembering we have no time to miss

If all my days were back again

I would see child hood for bargain

Hugged in my parents arms

Free from nightmare devils harm

But as I have life to go

And in this world of pomp and show

I look up to my little one

And feels myself while her life runs

By Iti Nautiyal