A Bundle of Joy by Ooma Tiwari Tariang SignUp
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A Bundle of Joy
by Ooma Tiwari Tariang Bookmark and Share
 

Children a source of joy, of regalement and an outcome and a labor of love. Conformity of continuation of life. A regeneration process. They cement a marriage. A tiny wonder, they make you wonder at, the very source of life.  And the moment they are born one's own learning process starts all over again. Through them we discover our own childhood that was passed by in a transience without a thought. As we unfold life and its vicissitude to them, we intrigue at our own knowledge and discover a whole new world of which we were incognizant and oblivious off. They are not a conformity of us but an extension. Their learning starts exactly where we stopped. In so many ways they are wiser, equipped with the collective wisdom of their predecessors, they add a lot more of their own to the pool of knowledge they inherit.

Right from the day when they start as a tiny globule attached to the lining of the womb they create an air of revelry in the hearts of their folks. They spark off an exhilaration and charge to gear up the ambience for their arrival. A lingering perpetual feeling of gaiety resides some where in the system. With their first assertion of self ... their first movement ... that fleeting feeling, rising up like air bubbles and disappearing even before it is felt with conformity... they announce their arrival to the world of the living. And when they are born ... with their tiny hands, tiny feet, the delicate fold of their skin, the tender look, their calm and content sleep, or their distracting fluttered wail ... they hold everyone entranced and enchanted while one can only marvel at the mysteries of the nature. Out of nowhere a being materializes and creates a space and a realm of it's own.

With anticipation, eagerness and impatience I asked the gender of the child born. Somebody said it is a boy I smiled to myself dozed off into a slumber, an after effect of anesthesia. Whenever I came around to my senses I would eagerly ask, inquire, gather, and the questions still ring in my ears ... how does he look? ... Is he like this or is he like that ... and where is he? Who said what I do not remember ... All the men folks were missing ... women were sitting around me ... somebody said that they were bringing in my child ... I held my breath as the nurse walked in and showed him to me ... wrapped in soft flannel clothes ... he was ... a Bundle of joy!. 

Eyes closed ... serene ... profoundly tranquil face ... delicate ... and oh! so, so very beautiful ... Sleeping ... or so I thought . My face glowed as I smiled from ear to ear. My heart enraptured with motherly instincts and was captivated with his innocent and undefiled look ... He won my heart right from the moment I set my eyes on him. The love and the song of my life ... oh! he looked so delicate and impeccable I thought. 

But while I was still mesmerized by this little wonder ... some one said he had problems ... breathing problems ... he had to be taken to another hospital. Everyone had something to say, I looked at everyone, one by one, confused and bewildered, voices juxtaposed ... and overlapped ... relatives ... friends ... faces ... lips moving ... I tried to discern the meaning of what they said ... it dawned on me that he was ill. 

Continued
26-Nov-2000
More by :  Ooma Tiwari Tariang
 
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