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Thank God, Mr Darwin Wasn’t A Mother!

If Darwin were a mother, the only evolution he could have thought about would’ve been his kid’s evolution.  Allow me to present an anecdote on how the mind of a mother works.

One November night, long after dusk I finish the usual chores and go to bed. I see my son sleeping peacefully. I can’t help caressing and thinking how this electrifying Pickachu lights up my day. But the quintessential, worrisome mother in me can’t be put off for long, and the worry slowly rears its weary head. I wonder how my kid will turn out to be. I wonder what will happen when he turns into a tenacious teenager. Will he imbibe the values that I’m trying to inculcate? Will he be a chivalrous chap or a rebellious rock-star? I wish that he turns out to be a chivalrous rock-star. Is that too much to dream?

Ever since he has come in my life, I always speculate how he will look like? Will he get the good looks from his father, but I would like to see a teeny-weeny, just a small freckle-little me, somewhere. I remember, how I wished his eyes to be ‘hazel’ like his father’s, which I adoringly call ‘sunflower eyes’. As fate would have its final say- the only thing my little munchkin has taken after me, is his dark brown eyes. I ain’t complaining. Ah! I digress again!

I worry what his future holds, what he will become. My every prayer includes him- when I wish upon a star or when I put the innocuous little eyelash on my palm.

I can’t wait to see him all grown up, successful, soaring higher and higher, and most importantly ‘happy’. But, I’m apprehensive about the inevitable battles he will have to fight, many times alone. Then I reckon, this process is vital for his evolution.

It reminds me of my first poem, which I wrote long ago. It’s about how the protagonist evolve from a young girl to a woman. As it’s ‘world poetry day’, I am sharing the poem here-

HER EYES

When I met her first

I saw her eyes-

so calm & tender.

Innocence residing on pupil,

and congeniality on lashes,

sparkling with a dream.

The world could stop on its single wink.

Soothing when they fix on you,

and lovable when they look away,

hard to believe such eyes exist.

I met her yesterday,

and saw those eyes again-

so deep & melancholic.

Now, fear residing on pupil,

and vulnerability on lashes.

Helpless, like a bird without any wings,

shunning the world with a frequent blink.

Moving away soon as they catch on you,

and pitiable as they look away.

Hard to imagine what made her change that way.

I met her again,

and saw the eyes-

devoid of any residue of pain,

so confident but cautious.

Hope residing on pupil,

and tenacity on lashes.

Brightening like sun,

now nothing can stop her.

Neither an order nor any whim.

Penetrating as they fix on you,

mysterious while they look away.

O! Why she had to change anyway?

——————–

As I give him a constellations of kisses, I wish for this moment to last little longer than other moments. Que sera sera.

2 thoughts on “Thank God, Mr Darwin Wasn’t A Mother!”

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