There was a time when I had wished for not having even one of them. Then there came a point in my life when I realized- “Okay! It wouldn’t be bad to have a few. Say, three or four.” And finally a stage where I couldn’t wait to have hundreds of them to be playing, cribbing, singing and dancing around me.
Yes! I am drowned in the desire of owning lots and lots of babies. A boy? Or a girl? Doesn’t matter; it never did.
When I told about this to my mom, contrary to what I had expected, she didn’t support the idea. “Which mother in this world wouldn’t want her daughter to have babies?” I wondered. “Maybe, a mother of a daughter who is cribbing for not one or two, but hundreds of babies”, answered my witty brain.
“Fair enough”, I thought.
But did her opinion affect me? No. In fact, I want to have my babies with as strong vigor as I had wanted before.
When I look around, and see others with their babies: some are chubby, while some are not; some keep on smiling, while some never seem to stop crying– I cringe a little. I feel happy for the one who has the pleasure of being known as that baby’s mother or father, but (I’m guilty of this feeling of mine) I lament over the fact that I don’t have the privilege of being a mother of that baby.
When you hold that baby for the first time, you lose yourself in that moment; that moment absorbs the whole you. When you hug that baby for the first time, you realize there is nothing more important than that little wonder, which you’re holding on to tenderly. When you kiss that baby for the first time, you know how fake and meaningless all those previous kisses were to other people. When you actually look at that baby, look at that tiny new life, you wonder where you’ve been lost all your life, that why did you get to hold this tiny magic after these many years of your life. When you spend your whole days and nights with them, you get transported to some magical world from where you’d never want to return.
Being a mother is the world’s greatest pleasure and privilege. To have someone whom you hold most dearly and closest to your heart is the most profound and heavenly feeling of all.
All this isn’t a vicarious thrill but my own experience. Yes, I already am a mother. A mother of not one or two, but of forty babies- my books, my novels- my treasury.
There’s not even a single moment when I’m without my babies. It’s not them cribbing for me, but always me for them; I’m the one craving to be always surrounded by them. But isn’t it always a mother’s heart which longs for her kid? Kid might forget about having a mother, but does a mother ever forgets? Posing this question in itself seems silly.
If not all (as carrying all of them isn’t practically possible) there always is, at least, one of my babies in my bag or purse or whatever I’m carrying. Whenever I’m having a bad day, whenever I want to freshen up my mood and my soul, my baby in the bag comes to my rescue. It doesn’t ask me the reason of being drained, but plays its tricks without asking anything.
It never even demands anything; all it needs is my time. You give your baby your time, and it will give you all your pleasures of life.
Right now, I might not have all my babies, which I wish to own, with me but one day I will. These little ones anyway keep on asking for more brothers and sisters. Now who can escape the charm of these teeny-weeny, puppy-faced adoring babies’ demands? I can’t.
IF YOU ARE A FIRST- TIME VISITOR OF MY BLOG, DO REFER ‘First-Timers’. IT WOULD HELP YOU IN EXPLORING THE PLACE.
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