Chutki

The title of grandpa is not something that one looks forward to at the age of 44, especially if it’s thrust on you. But I had no choice as the newborn was the daughter of my wife’s niece. The baby’s birth was an expected one, as my wife had lost a sister to cancer last year. And, the family believed that that she would come back to them. The niece's (the deceased woman's daughter) marriage and pregnancy cemented their belief; the delivery confirmed it. The poem captures the post-delivery mood in my in-laws'place. And, it is also my gift to the little one. Hope, she’ll grow up into a good human being. God Bless.

Only time will tell!

The quiet house sprung to life,
There’s clamour and chaos too.
People come from far and near,
Some leave after a chat and tea.
Others stay a day and a few more,
Wow, it’s a welcome change,
In the midst of a great loss.
Now, how did it happen?
Oh! It’s the birth of a bonny girl.
Fair of face and full of grace!

“Tis my mother,” says the mom as she,
playfully pinches her infant’s cheeks.
“Tis my daughter,” says the great granny,
As tears of joy trickle down her weathered face.
The old man has a vacant look and keeps mum,
Doesn’t believe in miracles anymore.
“Tis our sis!” says two of her kin,
“We knew she’ll be back,” they say.
But one kept quiet and did,
What had to be done!

“I knew it would be a girl,”
Says the eldest uncle.
“Give her a bath or I won’t hold her,”
Says the youngest one.
Her only brother who is miles away,
Bonds with his sis over the digital sphere.
Now, I’ve often gazed at her as she slept;
The pink face flaunts many emotions.
What is she thinking?
And who is she? I wonder!

Only time will tell!