The ugly birth and beautiful death (4)

… Next morning my mother was about to be discharged from hospital. In between one old lady entered our ward, who was professing to be my family member. She was perhaps my grand mother. What ever I heard about this relation in the womb, was all through poems, rhymes and songs. My mother used to listen those during pregnancy. I was expecting that same love and care from her. I was countenancing differently, so she would be galvanized with my innocence. I was pedalling my feet and hands, as she was coming closer to me. I was Purposely closing my eyes, so when she will kiss me, I will gift her happiness through my shiny eyes.

She gave some old clothes to nurse and shed her to make me dressed in those, as per some ritual, where new born should wear old clothes, which she might have taken from some relatives. She came to my cradle, and looked at me. Before I could smile and hold her finger, she started screaming, Oh!! Wasn’t it enough that she was a girl, she is dark too. Where in the world she has chosen our home to take birth at. Had she been a boy, I would have invited hundreds of people. I would have greeted him like no one did before in this village. She started thumping her head.

On the other hand my mother was so quiet. I never heard her silence before, but now I started to understand her every tear. She was lying subconsciously on the bed. And that old image.. I was continuously listening her, who was supposed to bless me, was continuously cursing my mother for delivering me.

First in my life, I calculated the difference, inside and outside the womb. I was finding it even more painful what my mother was trying to protect me inside and I was trying to make a move outside. Thousands of question marks were written in front of my identity. I was happy that my mother could still save me till now, in terms of my existence.

Till now my mother pampered me as no one in the world is as beautiful as me, Doctors declared me a healthy baby. Hospital’s staff was coming to see who new has broken the water wall. And she “the old” has come to check my zander and complexion.

Though, by this time, I learnt to differentiate people Male or female? I was resembling that screaming old voice with my mother, me and hundreds of voices around me. They all were girls. Were they all beautiful? Was only my birth so UGLY?


To be continued !!Keep reading!!



About Deepti

I am Deepti from Delhi, India. A Craft person, a blogger (Writer), Painter, a baby's dress designer, a daughter, elder sister of two, a wife and above all "Mother to a cute little Princess".
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