Still in fluid in the womb,

It gives pain to the mom, who cries,

Yet, she sets up a bond with what it is,

Bereft of any expectations for her labor,

Withstands labor pains of utmost decibel,

.With a firm belief that her offspring will,

Spring from the naught to the world’s top,

In position, with labor of his own,

And win name and fame,

For himself and for others who tended him,

Showered care that sprang from inner recesses of heart,

Used up their earnings earned with sweat of their brows,

Thinking, when that child grew,

He would be without equals with his heart at the right spot,

Will also take care of them,

When all their parts of body will fail them,

Failing would be legs,

Which carried them places,

Failing would be their eyes,

Which showed them the world at large,

Failing would be their cerebral thinking,

Which gave them the power to distinguish one from two,

Failing them would be their hands,

Which helped them to pick up the morsel of bread,

Empty of coffers, empty of their own system,

They pray for support from the ones they had lost everything,

Their cry melts them not,

No one listens to their woeful woes,

Hopeless,  they turn to the One most benevolent,

The One above who will not ask anything in return, if given,

Sure, help comes from Him without any attached strings.


Harbans Khajuria