Earthlings have a curious habit of celebrating days — New Year’s day, day when Christ was born, day he came back after being dead for few days and then died again, birth of so many other gods, anniversaries and so on. One of these days is our birthday. No, it is not just a day one decided to eject out of a uterus. Well think about it, the fetus all closeted inside comfortably, being carried to different places by the mother, getting free food and everything, yes of course, it’s a bit shabby in there with arteries crossing over veins and bad smelling utera-l fluid, but the fetus doesn’t know better. Then it grows and grows and the brain grows and grows even more and it picks up sounds and touches and starts getting curious. ‘What is it exactly ‘out’ there?’ it would ask itself. ‘Where am I?’, ‘Can I go ‘outside’?’, and so day by day its curiosity increases till it reaches the point where it can take it no more. It wants to get out, feel, see what’s outside, decide for itself once and for all it’s position with respect to the vast space unknown to it. Such an objective evaluation of its situation now becomes imperative and so the fetus pushes, wriggles, wants to get out, break free from the cage. (Though by all means it is much better off inside, getting a free pass, it doesn’t realize what it is jumping into, tremendous leap of faith.)
Oh Eden
And then the passage, nothing could be harder than that, many a smart fetus will not be willing to take it, they would request an easier way out, ‘rather cut mommy’s tummy please’. But no this fetus decided to bear it all, and with mixed hopes, with faint recollections of comforting touches and mellow sounds, it starts the quest. it sees the light at the end of the tunnel, fills it with hope and excitement, but now something is killing it, these sounds ‘oh they are not dulcet anymore’, ‘no someone’s shrieking’, and ‘why does it smell so different’ and then something starts pulling it out, it hurts ‘Ouch’, and the it goes like, ‘Was it good idea?’, ‘I think I was was better off there’. Then it doesn’t want to come out, but now it finds itself in alien hands, it has no choice..
Suspended upside down, a strange pair of hands tapping its back, others looking at its private parts, categorizing it and then the vigorous tap, it regrets, finally breaks into a cry,
‘Mistake, mistake. I wanna go back’,
‘Too late now for that now…’
‘But… I just wanted to see what’s outside’
‘That you will.’
‘But I don’t want to anymore, please let me go back to my uterus.’
‘Na-a, not happening, that’s not your uterus, that’s your mom now, you will rush to her occasionally, though Freud thinks you’ll eventually be in love with your father and envy your brother, wait you don’t have one yet.’
‘Who’s Freud, who’s father, who’s brother?’
‘You’ll know…’
‘Let me go back go back :((‘
‘Too late kid’, the hands say, handing it over to some other pair of hands, ‘Go suck…’
So it happens that somewhere around this day, 24 years earlier, I accidently took a bite of the apple of knowledge, and left my eden. They tell me the exact day celebrating my fall happens to be the 21st of February. By some smart design they kept the first two labels of all days in a circular order, so they can remind me of the mistake I made after every earth’s revolution about the sun.
Nehaan 
belated wishes for the birthday! —shefali. And I do read everything you put up here and yes your poetry is beautiful.. luv and all the good stuff
LikeLike
Thank you :). Silent whispers should at least allow space for comments! You like the poetry, serious? I don't know, there are things I write in a completely altered state of mind and then later, I find it hard to relate to them myself – a sort of distance from my own child, an instance of me, but not me.
And when someone reads them – at a certain plane of understanding, an instance of me falls squarely over an instance of this reader. Maybe thats the echo of poetry, resonance of prose. As art, they are always ours not mine.
LikeLike
It is if it were like creativity had an existence outside us .. it touches us for an instance and leaves us wondering..but maybe the spirit does not leave the lines and here I read them with my manifestation of the creativity that touched you momentarily. (And I don't flatter people .. so I did like it :))
LikeLike