Non-erotic Dawn at Midnight By Pinuram - {Completed}

[usaiha2]

A year rolled over with no much of ripples in my life. Abhi started to walk all around the house. His nonstop babbles use to be music to my ears as most of the time I had to work so I showered all my love on him whatever time I spent with him.


My Abhi was growing up and he was becoming mischievous day by day. At times, he used to walk into kitchen, pulled the tumbler down, and spill water on the floor. At times, he used to walk to my dressing table and eat up my lipstick or smear the colour all over his face.

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I felt deep in my heart that ChotoMa missed me very much. She used to call me every week to know about Abhi. Her words made me feel that she was missing Abhimanyu also.

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Few months after my thirty-fourth birthday, during Durga Puja, I gathered myself up. On one fine morning of Dashami, I graced myself elegantly in a beautiful turquoise silk saree and looked myself in the mirror. I felt that I was a decade younger. I took my son in my lap and looked into my reflection.

I smiled at him and said---“Mamma is looking beautiful.”

He babbled sweetly and nodded his head---“Yeth….”

I showered several kisses on his cheek and clasped my cub across my chest. I was about to start for ChotoMa’s house after a long time when my sight fell on the “Optics Notebook” lying on my bed. The autumn wind suddenly blew few pages and the sound of the flutter of the crinkly pages pulled my feet inside the door. “Should I go or not? I am also a mother of a son, someday my Abhimanyu will grow up and fly away, leaving me alone in this world” I was caught in a dilemma again and that made me retrace my steps back to my house. For the first time in several years I tried to go back but the sound of the pages of his diary reminded me that my ChotoMa was responsible for my miseries. I could not step out to visit my ChotoMa’s place.

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I spent my nights alone in my bed, clasping Abhi to my chest and reading his diary numerous times. I kept the diary always with me in my laptop bag, as if it was my Bible, Koran and Gita. The pains subdued with time and I felt those colourful thoughts as a dream that I relished every night. One night I was reading his words and I felt to write something about my sweet cub. My first poem about my cub came from the abyss of my heart in from of love and scratches.

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Papri patar thoonth ti mele, adu adu chokhye;

Ma bole oii daklo uthye, book ti gelo kenpye |

Adul gaye tutupiye amar dike chaii;

Bolchye jeno Ma amake kole nite aii |

Bikel holyee bairee dekhaii, ghurtee ami jabo,

Altoo kore bole amai, bhujtee paro nako?

Boli ami jachii baba, ektu sobur kor,

Thopash kore galee amar lagiye dilo chor |

Mishti hathe’r porosh peye chokhyee ello jol,

Jol dekhe oii kandlo shone, book kore chol chol |

Kandle jeno, gaaner shure vashai ami tori,

Toor jonyo megher opor prashad ami gori ||

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=========== END OF PART - 3 ============

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