BABY’S EYES DELIVERING SOMETHING

Leaning on a train-window the baby looks on river flowing,

Its water is always muddy in raining tease,

 

Small waves, muddy water flowing, sunlight is not in full color,

The baby losses curiosity to see reflective derives.

 

His eyes pick curiosity, looking for sunlight,

It is baby’s bad luck not to find magic,

 

Curiosity travels into his eyes to see the New River Bridge,

Balancing is a rose test of accuracy.

 

The baby looks forward how long river’s wide stream can

Hold silence, when flood situation fills the air.

 

As the river flows with its body towards seashore to mingle with

Great course of oceanic mystery,

 

The baby does not think it, yet he looks forward for the wave

That the river does create its speed inside.

 

The baby is in balancing mood not finding the spheres of life,

Neither he examines it nor does he understand it.

 

His gesture and attitude is innocent, spiritual, cradled realm,

It is his baby insights; it is his looking for throne inside.

 

LOVE OF A GRANDMOTHER

When mother is away on duty,

When baby son is left at home,

When the world needs caring for the infant,

The grandmother becomes beloved one,

She comes and gives bath to her grandson,

Who then soundly sleeps after bottled milk-feeding.

The caring grandmother stays for several hours,

As if she is like a lesson for loving her grandson,

She loves all - her husband, her son, her daughter-in-law,

She does it all the time, today and tomorrow,

Since she came in the family, and remains as guardian,

Emotionally and profoundly she does her duty.

She does not work for money,

She wants peace in the family,

She likes to love and be loved by all,

Yet she is alone as confusion runs inside,

As if she is the blue sky with gentle trust,

That all members do not understand.

She is like a crown upon family-mirror,

Its image does hold no reflections,

She is like a running figure, none can think about,

Sea wave cannot be measured, she is like that,

She is an ordinary woman, a simple housewife,

She likes to embrace pathos for her loved one.

LONELY WOMAN

She has everything,

Husband, a son, a daughter-in-law, a grand baby son,

She feels she is locked inside,

She works with them, as if she is one of them,

She keeps her cheerful, smiling on every occasion,

The fake strokes she makes with hard labor all time.

She sleeps in a small room,

She leaves her bed room for her husband,

She gives the second bed room to her son,

She assists everyone, no tiredness she feels at work.

She shed no tears even if there is quarrel with her hubby.

She does not complain anything on her life and feeling.

She is happy on her long journey with all,

All villagers are with her side for her sweet charms

As she carries morning freshness in her walking,

As if she is the beauty of knowledge and mystique,

Effervescence fills all around her she talks, shares good feelings,

The neighboring observers think and feel her kindness.

Most of the time she takes much care of her grandson,

Whose little limbs, half spoken words, broken sounds,

All movements keep her awake and she feels the essence,

With love, care, along with her childhood memories, it is divine.

Long time, she cares for baby’s work, when his

Parents go for work, and her husband does not help her.

One day her son tells that he will stay in other house,

She looks at her son’s face,

And then looks at the face of daughter-in-law,

Long time she finds no response, and she feels angry desert,

Gently she reads the fate, tells her mind, in broken sigh:

“My husband does not love me; my son does not love me,

I have to live alone, sacrifice the little one whom I love and trust most.”

PRAYER FOR A BABY ON POILA BAISHAKH

Poila Baishakh comes on fourteenth April,

We are getting  ready after having bath,

We wear new garments and prepare

For going to Mandir for worship

For praying for my baby grand son, God’s blessings.

We love our new comer, our grand baby son,

Who is our heart, sweet things are happening,

His little limbs are in tender movement,

He gradually moves in great enthusiasm to know the earth,

He is our mark for love and care, cute as small flower,
He is gaining knowledge of earth
With lightning speed in nature and its space.

It is a cloudy day; we go out to pray for the baby,

With hopes, prayers and strong feelings

And a peer to our devotion to hold him

With great love, care and gentle touch,

We are in great hope, beholding trust, let
Heaven grant it, enthralls of existence,

Pride of creation and reflections of life,

Starting with innocent mind and sweetened heart. 

The baby is our legislation to meet param soul
With whom we dream and walk with hope,
With great expectation and perception of birth, 

Centered with this new life, with heavenly bonds,

And with this baby we want to start a new life, 

On this auspicious day of Poila Baishakh.  

MOTHERHOOD

1. First Mother

She is our maid servant, comes daily

To help domestic works to my wife

And she plays a little with my grand son

Who is only three months’ old,

And she says, “I cannot get much time

To care for my little one when I become first mother,

Then I have to work for food, there is no system of

State dole or rations, and I have to work on others’ house

Day and night for livelihood, and I tied my little one

By a long cord tied to a bamboo pole so that the baby

Cannot go out of my sight, but the baby can play easily,

And I have to take the baby with me to my work place.

Then I was scared for motherhood, and take care of

The life that is shattered so heavily on poor path way,

So were my life and thus three sons grown up with me

And I am now happy even if they are now earning a little

To hold my hand with their little hands, and I am now in need

Of hard cash to buy my daily needs, and so I do work here.

Now there are many systems to care for poor mothers,

But we have no strong support  to empower

Financially for all poor mothers and we have to work

For livelihood till now.”

The life she describes is always everywhere in

Hard situation with confrontation with the life,

We are not accustomed to hold these life’s struggles,

Yet we have these swells, we perceive, and then move forward all the time.

2. Second Mother

She runs for her son’s breast feeding,

Only four months she is mother to nourish her child

She is a contractual worker of a government sponsored organization,

She is paid a little, not like payment of a permanent staff of the state,

Yet she has to live on the score of the little scores

That the state permits and thus she consoles her.

She will be able to feed her son to make her son

A successful man who can earn independently with full freedom,

Unlike hers, and she will struggle for stability of her son at any cost,

And when she gets time, she chases going into time to absolve in time

And returns home to feed his son with flowing milk

That her breasts checks to hold for long and feels pain by heart

For being detached from the baby’s touch and charm,

As motherhood, she has to live with this struggle.  

3. Third Mother

She runs for her son’s breast feeding

And she decides to stay at home for six months for her baby

Who is a new born, and she has scope that she gets from government, -

Two years as child caring leave, at spells,  for taking care of child.

There is no reason of considering whether other mothers

Have any scope to think of their babies too, hardly dared to think,

And Govt. has sanctioned her leave, and she has liberty to enjoy it in full,

She has big chamber where other mothers cannot enter, will not enter,  
And she will take on strong energy to grows up her little one 
To the age of six months, and then she will join work.

4. Fourth Mother

She is single mother, she has no confirmed job, she has no education,

She lives with her only son who is ten months old, and

She gives her breast feeding in every occasion when the baby cries,

And also gives solid food, when his father, who is her ex-husband,

Sends money every month for maintaining the kid only, and she is not lucky,

To have a little maintenance cost for her own, as the divorce suit is not settled,

And she has to work hard on a workshop for her livelihood.

She is waiting to get the maintenance cost of ex- husband’s son.

This month she is waiting, but money has not come,

She does not have other choices, and all she earned have been spent

To purchase baby foods, and she becomes angry with this situation,

She is not of that kind of woman

Who will put pressure to get money for the baby from her ex-husband,

And thus she cannot balance this month, and she decides

To go to the house of the baby’s father

To get the help that he is bound to pay every month for the kid only,

As there is no way for much waiting and she cannot burn herself more,

And she cannot meet both ends, it is a shock to her,
Tears come down heavily, and she cannot tolerate it,

She does not pull it off the score and she decides sure to move first

To go there to have some money urgently, but she cannot gather courage,
Instead worked overtime, she appears as a positive woman to squeeze self 
To earn more, but the overtime money is not enough, she is now in quandary.

5. The Motherhood and the World 

Sitting between the two worlds, one developed and other developing in nature,

We are all in search of the life of mothers, on the score of humanity, and

We are doing it, on our own, and cannot feel the real necessity where we live,

As the earth has resources that are used by intelligent people and some privileged ones,

And the expenditure with which we are moving like portrait and painting, nice but lifeless, 
We are running on the way where motherhood has no provisions for gentleness,

And that we gurgle only definitions on the world’s sawdust, and

We cannot be able to reach to the commons, keeping everything under glass, 
And engrave on it painting of our financial and environmental achievements till date,

We are only painters on motherhood, and carry the burden century after century.

All mothers do want her baby to be intelligent one to chew the earth’s resources.

THE BABY

Little hands, tender little hands, touch me,

And life begins with little one’s tiding fists,

Through all windows of itinerary start,

The little life gives purge to build love in everyone,

It is soft feeling to touch, its cute looks,

Little eyes play in speedy moving eyeballs,

Over the world, in its playing time, morning or evening, 
Night passes through beautiful dreams, tuned.

With full energy the baby shines and plays in light,

No tiredness, but countless throwing of fists

To catch the air, in trial of catching the earth,

Enjoying life into the sun’s brightness.

He is genius in all moves, astonishing, energy is everything,
Across the mud, grass, water, air, light,  

We do gaze at him, he does gaze at us, smiling,  the difference is:

He can assure us of life and light, we wander across the earth.

He hears every sound, makes sounds in return, resonance of talks,

And he passes through many experiences and expressions,

He begins life in aspirations, we do not read, but we are charmed,

He holds all lights in his eyes to make us bright.

THE BABY IS NOW ON THE TV SHOW BIZ MAKEUP

The world has changed to new orientation that each baby sees it on the way.

In my eyes we are changing, and I see the baby’s eyes on the field to keep space with,

The baby manages the way, that we are not accustomed to see it in our publicity,

As there is a gap with our back-lit love and grandsons, over sixty years of gap,
And we are prone to feel the art of living that the baby is adopting with its tiny limbs and brain.

The television program we see after forty years of difference,that the baby sees it now,

At the very binging of his birth, the very sign of syllables that he takes part,

And we get this opportunity after some time that keeps us with bumpy shreds in airy charms.

The unfamiliar way of living is now a real part on images and moving scenes

That the baby has accessed the path-way, different from what we are not in the situation in the past.

The first introduction has the run and tears, and it seeks recognition with the time bounded source,

The radio station in past time is now turns mostly to studio version where an anchor is playing crown,

The script, the fashion, the questions, the answers, etc. are faces of laughing broadcasting,

The hilly scenery behind conversation shows is now moving with graphic window and its excellence.

And every turn comes enthusiastically and intelligently performances at per dictum,

That the baby sees in its small with searching eyes to fill the authoritative script

Of the baby’s nascent brain, complete with the sun rise or the sun set of colors and love,

That brings a vivid expression into child brain, taking it to another sequence, either dirty or healthy, 

Of his soft nerves, and tender feeling gives birth to the question what we are not accustomed

To this time when we are at the same age of the baby forty years back when we were child,

It is hilarious task for us, but it is easy task for the baby who has just got birth and braces the growth.

Today a boy is familiar with TV program, that we are not familiar with it in past time,

And the baby can perceive and interview what the promotion it gets
From its birth towards wisdom of his future .

LOVE FOR A BABY, MOTHERHOOD

He is crying with little eyes

Filled with tears,

His mother is working

And chants songs

Form a little distance.

He is not in mood

To hear music or whispering

Of love rhymes

And cries all along,

Throwing little hands and feet

Over air, moving small body

On his single tiny bed,

And his crying fills the air,

With the urge to be with him,

And everything to be turned on his side.

His mom comes running,

With hands rubbing in towel,

So as to keep her water-soaked-hands dry,

And takes hastily the baby
In her lap full of love,

And gives him breast feeding,

And the baby sleeps down.

His mom does not let him down

On the little bed, and

Sits carefully as she is feeding the baby,

And looks deeply on innocent-baby-face

With love and care,

With violet mind to feel the morning,
And its identity, resting on his face, 

That mother-heart wants to fill her heart

With love, dripped drop by drop,

Like water filling the empty bowl

That is placed to be filled up with love,

And divinity with motherhood

That she wants to feel

On unbound waves of heavenly little fists
Scored with love and golden hours of creation of life.