The Cut of Cord

He, the admirer of my imperfections!
Never ever my days are bloomed without him_
And, his every night has never missed my lyrical lullabies
Ever to give its ears to hear.

My imperfections helped me
To shape him out with perfections.
I did, I did it! yes! passionately I shouted inwardly.

Years passed.
Now,
The umbilical cord has been severed!
He introduced me into his family,
‘His’, yes, he cheerfully welcomed ,”Here, My family Mom”.
I got understood well that My Son has become a Man.

My world is ‘He’,
But, in His world ‘I am NIL’.

Spending life in orphanage,
By thinking of the past and with
The bliss in imaging how He would be, now,
just grown or full-grown man?
during this 15 years of separation.

The pain of separation is tormenting me,
Taking me near the end.
I still firmly believe in that he would arrive
Ensuing my death to do the essential rites.

At last!
The charioteer of dreams, Time has brought my son
In front of me for one last-time.
Bed-Ridden me:
Difficult to breathe,
Trying to utter a word_
With my Son, the Sun of my life.

I reminisce, by stuffing my pupil with his presence,
Those special 10 months for every mother-to-be.
He dwelt in my womb where
He was stayed for 10 months. And, did
Some mischievous movements and unforgettable kicks.
Rare kind of jubilation I felt from
Whatever He had offered when He was inside me.

The best Of me offered,
Beyond the best is,
He to me.

The coward heart has no guts to beat anymore,
To see the tears in his eyes
even with my blurring eyes.

O!! How can I bear that the reason for his pain is me?
He is the treasure who came from me,
How can I let him feel the pain?
Heart of mine has been torn before it gets halted
by seeing his tears.

The muted ears boosted up with
The lullaby he has sung for me,
To have an interminable Sleep.
It is the one, His favourite,
It is the one, I used to sing,
Till when he was around five.

Sensing gratefulness to have
Him as My Son,
My eyelashes are gradually hugging together.

His voice is a pain killer to me,
My Grief-filled heart cannot tolerate,
The sin of being the cause of His painful tears.
So, nothing more to do,
As a retribution, I myself hold my breathe.
Blessed to be His mother…

The few seconds before
When all getting black in vision,
He is the last image fallen into my eyes.
Feel the Peace after the successful penalty,
Death greets me and avow:
The buried Love of your son
is what spouting as tears by him for you.

Death trumpets:
“Mother is pawning her whole life
To Death to raise her offsprings;
and, as well,
Every Father has sold his soul out
To God to fulfil his offsprings’ requisites”.

• Aswini Sivadasan