The two women in my life stand like pillars of strength by my sides. One spreads the smile so angelic, the other’s cherubic face all smiles unlettered, innocent, simplistic is one, who borne me years ago and ushered me into this world.
One fine day, at the break of dawn, in writhing ache, she was found was almost half dead with pain, and then she heard, as someone said, “Pity it’s a daughter.” She did look with mournful eyes, shiny beads trickled down her face, lips quivered in some prayer, ‘Alas!!!! It’s a daughter.’ Hesitant, reluctant to even touch me; was it guilt? Or was it pain? Or remorseful disdain, I could not see.
Suddenly, she thrust me into her heaving bosom and then amidst a sea of emotions, what I had asked, she did tell me. She came so close, I could feel her breath, she whispered into my tiny ears, “I am proud, my daughter, you are born.” I smiled back, while, clutching her hand, whispered in her ears, “Ma I will not let you down, I will not let you down.” Days passed, she cradled me alone, None helped her, ‘as a daughter was born’
She made me a cloth ball and wiped my sweaty brow; put me to bed with a story of a thirsty crow. She treated me like a princess, rebukes she received from corners though tired always she was with her chores around, she found for my feet a sturdy ground. She made me walk through terrain so tough; unlettered she was, but educated enough didn’t let me fall when I went on my knee, didn’t let my fear when the tides didn’t favor me.
In all her coyness and her virtuousness she was truly a woman of grit and substance, life went on and she pushed me through, empowered me so much, uninhibited I grew. And then many many years later, the same pain galore, She heard the same voice which said, but with a hint of laughter, “God is great, it’s a daughter”
On hearing this she did cry, no sorrow, no pain, and no remote disdain. She touched me with her shriveled hands and wiped my brow to reduce my pain. She closed onto me, I could feel her breath, she whispered to me with abundant joy, “I am proud, my daughter, you are born again.” And then we both touched the little tiny feet, the golden palms, we heard a sweet sound, no less than the psalms, it whispered in our ears, “Ma I will never let you down, I will never let you down.”
I laid there amidst the two women in my life, one holding me to her bosom and wiping my brow, and the other thrusting into my bosom, holding my hand, waiting to be empowered and truly grow.
Author:
Dr. Zeenat Iqbal
Department of Pharmaceutics
Faculty of Pharmacy (Jamia Hamdard)
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