Welcome My Braveheart Child

‘Come on, you can do it! Take a deep breath, gulp the pain and push it down,...’ The young would be mother bore the labour with a ray of hope in her tearful eyes Clasping her hands she prayed ‘ Let it be a girl, O God, with all your blessings bestowed upon.’ Her in-laws hoped for a grandson, but her mother gave her a book of all the brave girls known. Slowly she bent down her tired head and felt as if she was confined in a dark cell, dirty and cold With a smell of death and a metal rod, poking her body painfully, attached with a bolt. ‘Come on, open your mouth and speak up, you shameless spy! Or else , I’ll surely smash your pretty face so that neither you could talk or cry.’ ‘Beat me, you beast, as hard as you can! Cause I shall never betray my nation or my countryman.’ All of a sudden she seemed to be floating high aloft, over the dense cloud and dark smog. ‘Come on, open your eyes wide and focus hard, look for the hidden mount edges, It’s not just a fancy craft, it’s the Thunder Bird! You have to cross the sixty million miles Neither you get a proper meal, nor can you rest or smile.’ Now she was running miles panting for breath. ‘Come on, stay on your track, go on speeding ahead. Let your thirsty throat long for a droplet, let the tongue suck your dripping sweat Cause the first to touch the ending rope is obvious in your fate.’ A black eye, a bloody nose, knuckles full of blisters, but still she’s alert and ready for combat. ‘Come on, now hit right and swiftly turn to left, focus on every step of your opponent. Smash, punch, blow hard! Just like Rani Laxmi slaying foes with the baby on her back.’ Snow was everywhere, mercilessly cold and barren. An avalanche almost buried her! But nevertheless she climbed the vertical icy sheets, Defending the cold winds and the minus Celsius. ‘Go on climbing, yes you can do it! You need to climb just three thousand feet more to reach the summit.’ Suddenly, all the pain vanished as she heard some distant bells chiming A Mother clad in soothing white was holding a child, her wrinkled eyes smiling. ‘So, as I wished, it’s a girl after all!’ said the baby’s granny, ‘and what will you name this li’l fairy, Eileen, Nicole, Usha, Mary or Bachendri?’ ‘Agnes, she will be called Agnes. She will fight for humanity, but in silence. With a zeal of will power she’ll thrive for the poor and yet be humble. She will teach the society to be brave to face the malaise and yet be sensible.’ A TRIBUTE TO THE BRAVE WOMEN OF THE WORLD.