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Poem

It was a day in the season of mists,
All were rejoicing as there came the day of feasts
Slowly and steadily the day approached
And my mother sat concerned on her couch
She sat there for hours lost deeply,
Not able to understand what could be easy?
As she carried me in her womb,
The atmosphere remained silent and gloomed

But my folks thought it’s a boy,
And rejoiced, rejoiced and rejoiced
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Chorusing and dancing in the breeze.

How would I know I was not the one?
That they were chanting for the one to come,
I slept peacefully in my mother’s tiny room,
Dreaming about the forthcoming joy that I presumed

And slowly and steadily the time arrived,
When everyone gathered for the boy they idolized,
Crimson flowers, blueberry blossoms,
All seemed to dance in the stardom
Alas! Came the doctor out of the room,
And marched forward to proclaim the news

And soon the glory turned into a thick-skinned despair,
As if a silent war was declared
My mother laid there like an oblivious host,
Unable to utter what was lost
And everyone glared at me completely hypnotized,
Whispering about the girl they despised

There laid the baby with round black eyes,
And hair so beautiful yet intensified
And suddenly, out of the blue
Someone shouted from behind without anyone's clue
Ah! How beautiful she smiles like an emblem of happiness,
To my surprise, everyone came out of their nastiness,
And rejoiced to the glory that seemed endless.

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