Umbilical Cord

By Yashika Taneja

CONCEPTION

Joyous news of having conceived

That one bean stuck in the sieve

Health regime and wholesome diet

Little anxieties turning into riots

Inflating balloon rising tummy

Muffin like looks every mummy

Nine months of wait and anticipation

Birth of the baby, standing ovation

Little bundle of overwhelming joy held

New unknown emotional catharsis felt

The strongest bond of umbilical cord

Ties mum and baby together by lord

Separate entity an individual adapts

Cord is severed, new life around is wrapped

LIFE

Cries, middle of the nights

Motherhood at its height

Stolen sleepy moments snatched

Hen is tired, the eggs are hatched

Demanding bundle unexpected

Life’s joys are felt effected

Careless days and nights of fun

Why does life now seem to run

Heard words of motherly joys

To pull her down, society’s ploys

Couple of days or weeks at most

Charm of being a mum is lost

Struggle is every new night

Every wail leads to a new fight

Soon her work will knock again

Demanding more, it’ll be a pain

She hires an outside help

To relieve this life inflicted on self

Her body too needs special care

In order has to be put her hair

She has to look healthy and fair

To breathe again fresh air

DEATH

The little girl creeps

Unwillingly to school

Holding on to the woman’s arm

Who carries her bag and bottle

Drags the girl along too

Stops in the middle

To hug and plant a kiss

On the girl’s head

Motivating her to go ahead

With an unspoken promise

Of a playful evening

On her return home.

The baby wails loudly

Mother frets and calls out

The woman comes running

And holds the crying baby

In her loving embrace

Quietening him with sounds

Amusing him, calming him

Transporting him to a world of dreams

With the rocking of his body

On her shoulders strong.

The young boy whines

And shouts aggressively

At his elder brother

For snatching away his art

He doesn’t want to part

He stamps his foot on ground

Shouts at top of his lungs

In the middle of the park

The mother slaps him hard

The father utters threats

They warn him against disturbing

Creating an embarrassing mess

He cries loudly, rubbing his eyes

Fountains streaming down his face

Runs towards the woman

Who holds his bag and stuff

Hugs her around tummy

Buries into her arms his shame

His anger, his hurt, his loneliness

She embraces him, wiping his tears

Makes him drink water

Cools him down, hold onto his hand

They both walk slowly behind

While the family hurries ahead.

The young lady is lost

In the riddles and plays

In the confusing board games

Fairy tales, Cinderella dresses

She wants to role play

Live different characters

The mother leads a group of women

Towards learned spirituality

Towards the smart way of living

The young lady always shooed

To her room, with her playthings

Her hunger dies, she cries

Throws tantrums, out rightly lies

Her inside child is badly bruised

The woman sees all her blues

She runs to her rescue

With or without the mother’s cue

She becomes a playmate,

Another fairy tale character

A friend, a sister, a confidante

She gradually replaces the mother.

The trustful big innocent eyes

Of a child look up

Into the sympathetic and loving pools

Of the woman’s eyes

She is the answer to all questions

She is the key to all locks

She knows the child much better

Than those called the folks

The woman locks her fingers

With the child’s

By holding hands always

She feeds with her loving coaxes

Food cooked by her

Wipes the eyes, wipes the mouth

Washes the poop, gives a bath

Yet takes the mother’s wrath

She has back home

Four kids of her own

For whose well being and upbringing

She cooks, cleans while singing

She is only a helper

But she has it all

Cooking, cleaning, child rearing

Perfectly she does it all.

The child she looks after

Is not a part of her body

Yet he knows her smell

Comfort he finds in her

The child knows her touch

He knows what, for her, is too much

He defies the mother, the father

But the aunty is the lather

Of the soap that cleanses him

From the tiring hurtful dust

Of the outside inside world.

Her umbilical cord’s fruits

She never tasted ripe

She looks after other’s

To make her owns life

The mother lives a sham

A life full of pretence and glam

This is how we see

The severed umbilical cord

Slowly dies

Replaced by a woman

Who showers all her being

Thinking of her own offspring

Whose joy she cannot bring

Her umbilical cord dies too

But it gives a fulfilling childhood

To another mother’s child!

By Yashika Taneja