Theme: Longing

The Cradle


Very farsighted as she was
Very apt, homely, and cute
In due course she became mine
With all her grace and charm….

The very next year of marital bliss
She gifted me a child with delight
As sweet as the girl’s doting mother
My heart knew no bounds then….

As a lady is never contented with
What she has, and does crave...
So was she in her womanly role
Longing for a male hand in our old age.

For the little one born she had a cradle,
A walker for her to stand up to her feet,
But treasured them with a glittering sheet
For the one to come out of her daily prayer.

Beauty of her part began to grow
But her own beauty began to depart
And so did her wish to bear a son
For dispelling our old age’s fear.

Fate had something else in store
For the feminine feeling of hers
The womb of her long cherished wish
Was crushed and aborted to her dismay!

The day and the face, wished lied in lurk
In the green ambush of unfulfilled dreams
The parochial longing got lurid, faded
By thunderbolts and jolts with reconciliation.

Even today, the cradle giggles in glee
But the reality devours it in eerie silence
Her heart perceives a shadow of the wish
Yet her eyes try to grapple with it but in vain!

Image © Bhaskaranand Jha Bhaskar


More By  :  Bhaskaranand Jha Bhaskar

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