Mother must have laid cold and cramped
When the umbilical cord was being shorn
Father calculated the planetary position
And my horoscope was born
"She will bring back the lost glory"
Pronounced he and continued harping the Same till I believed in it
I was just a small child
If by glory he meant the furniture
He had to sell off or the jewelry
My mother wore in her photos
He was somewhat correct
But if it indicated something beyond that
I am not so sure
But I was tied to his words since the day
I could make some sense of my existence
The paths I took were too narrow, too wide,
Too steep, too crisscrossed
But I persevered
Because I was supposed to be the
Beacon of their life
Bound by my image I tripped, I fell,
I persevered again so that I could tell
I have won, I have proven
The forecast made
When I had uttered the first cry of life
The destiny that was drawn out
And my journey that was charted
Even before it began
"Masochist," my sister would say
"Vulnerable", I replied
I pretended to be brave
When I felt the most shaken
I blazed with anger
When it hurt the most
Scarred when recognition
Came my way all too late
Yet I perpetuated the false hope
In the hope to be the glimmer of hope
In lives flustered by hopelessness
Yet on some moonless nights
Stepping over my own shadow
I wonder what life could have been
If I were not what I was culled out to be
Stronger, braver, lighter and perhaps happier?
Had life let me travel back in time
Would I have had the heart to desist,
"I am not what you make me out to be"
Let me just be the trailing shadow
And walk in peace
Not the blazing torch you have
Turned me out to be?
(*) It is customary in our culture to draw the horoscope of a newly born child as per exact time and place of birth. In olden times it entailed long mathematical calculations to derive the planetary position during birth time which would influence the life's journey of a person till death.
Shared with Poets and Storytellers United
That's indeed an extraordinary piece of poetry.
ReplyDeleteThank you Mathur Sahab.
ReplyDeleteWhether a shadow or a torch freedom from expectations has always been a matter for me too . A very touching poem
ReplyDeleteThank you Jossina
ReplyDeleteCompellingly told. Some might say being "ordinary" is a mix of pain and pleasure but not a crime. Expectations of others and what we expect of ourselves can motivate or debilitate and send us in opposite directions.
ReplyDeleteThanks Penelope
DeleteBeautifully versed! The 'what ifs' are clouds that hover over our lives like straws to a drowning person.
ReplyDeleteThanks Deepakji
DeleteTo not have the freedom to chart your own course is a severe hardship. Good questions
ReplyDeleteThank you Debi
ReplyDeleteWonderfully written GC... Yet on some moonless nights
ReplyDeleteStepping over my own shadow
I wonder what life could have been... yes, those what-ifs, even if they have no answers, need air. I can relate to the feeling.
Rajani, those what ifs can be significant as well meaningless given the linear path of life.
DeleteThis was a nice summary, of how you lived through the parts of you life that weren't as desirable as most would desire. We were poor also, when I was born my father paid the doctor for me with potatoes, of which for some reason our large garden plot had produced an extra large crop like never before and never after. Hearing that or telling it helped me to believe, like you, that I was meant to be.
ReplyDeleteOur neighbors across the street are from Delhi and now are U.S. citizens.
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Hi Jim! You are my compatriot to put it succinctly having understood me perfectly and gone through the same emotions. Thanks a ton for the visit and comment.
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