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When I was three months old, crying in the crib Dr

When I was three months old, crying in the crib
Drooling saliva and blowing bubbles,
Wailing and throwing tantrums, even kicking my favourite plushie to the ground,
maybe because of hunger or messing up my diaper,
It wasn't you who came to shush me, dear.
I don't remember you taking me in your arms and singing a soothing song to calm me up,
Neither did you changed my diaper and feed me semi liquid baby food,
My eyes caught the glimpse of my mother,
With an ever lasting beautiful smile, as radiant as the brightest stars of summer.
Days passed, months went way too fast,
I started going to school, probably started complaing at the breakfast table too.
Waking up for school was something I loathed every morning,
Completing my Homeworks on time was never my thing,
I was way too mischievous and hated the green vegetables mom shoved inside my mouth!
Well, at one point things went out of control and dad tried to flog me for 
the poor little single digit marks that was exhibited with red ink on the single sheet of Class-1 report card,
I remember, i remember it wasn't you.
You didn't rush to save me from the brutal anger of my stern father.
It was my mom and my sister,
It wasn't you who wiped my tears,
And comforted me with "It's okay dear, you tried your best".
Well...times changed 
And I went way too far
I got promoted to Highschool and
Ugh! I really hated going to school.
So much trouble for being an introvert in a society where matters are solved through the sugar coated words of presumptuous people
I wondered if it was a sin bearing a sensitive and soft heart.
Thereby, I grew up, understood the way of life,
How extremely boorish perverts were mostly from the learned section of the society.
It was even in my own so called "family"
My aunty ji and uncle jis.
All the "Ji" of our "elite" paternal family.
Years flew away, and that's how everything changed 
Like the epochs of good times 
Have now, fall apart like an avalanche of Snowstorm.
Mom left for her eternal sleep,
Leaving us in pieces of destruction.
Now, there wasn't a single being,
To comfort us with soothing words like she once did.
When I was little, grandma was upset, they said,
Because I was the second DAUGHTER of her oldest son.
Believe me, this left me in the verge of Absolute delinguincy. Like how could that be?
Aunty ji uncle ji was always there for us.
Well, not in those times of jeopardy,
But at moments to chide us and humiliate us,
When nothing went right in our isolated days.
It wasn't you dear family.
It was my mum and dad all along.
Time has come for
Dear aunty ji and "vidwan" uncle ji,
To keep their opinions to themselves
And put a fullstop in investing so much time on conferencing for the future of someone else's daughters.
Because,when I was alone crying on my bed, 
Clutching into my bolster on the midnight of 3 AM. It wasn't you, o dear people 
It was only me and my gloomy thoughts.
If those people didn't accompanied me in my
Bad times,Why the hell should I attend to their advices in my good times?
Well, kids you know, understand and follow the moral values a little more than "vidwan" uncle jis of today's generation who Gulps down 
Shots of pied Piper before entering our religious family gatherings and those jealous aunty jis who gossips about the status of someone else's daughters.

It wasn't you dear people, it was always my mum and dad.
And you should remember that.
©mayurakshi18 #nojoto #poetry #relatives #indiansociety
When I was three months old, crying in the crib
Drooling saliva and blowing bubbles,
Wailing and throwing tantrums, even kicking my favourite plushie to the ground,
maybe because of hunger or messing up my diaper,
It wasn't you who came to shush me, dear.
I don't remember you taking me in your arms and singing a soothing song to calm me up,
Neither did you changed my diaper and feed me semi liquid baby food,
My eyes caught the glimpse of my mother,
With an ever lasting beautiful smile, as radiant as the brightest stars of summer.
Days passed, months went way too fast,
I started going to school, probably started complaing at the breakfast table too.
Waking up for school was something I loathed every morning,
Completing my Homeworks on time was never my thing,
I was way too mischievous and hated the green vegetables mom shoved inside my mouth!
Well, at one point things went out of control and dad tried to flog me for 
the poor little single digit marks that was exhibited with red ink on the single sheet of Class-1 report card,
I remember, i remember it wasn't you.
You didn't rush to save me from the brutal anger of my stern father.
It was my mom and my sister,
It wasn't you who wiped my tears,
And comforted me with "It's okay dear, you tried your best".
Well...times changed 
And I went way too far
I got promoted to Highschool and
Ugh! I really hated going to school.
So much trouble for being an introvert in a society where matters are solved through the sugar coated words of presumptuous people
I wondered if it was a sin bearing a sensitive and soft heart.
Thereby, I grew up, understood the way of life,
How extremely boorish perverts were mostly from the learned section of the society.
It was even in my own so called "family"
My aunty ji and uncle jis.
All the "Ji" of our "elite" paternal family.
Years flew away, and that's how everything changed 
Like the epochs of good times 
Have now, fall apart like an avalanche of Snowstorm.
Mom left for her eternal sleep,
Leaving us in pieces of destruction.
Now, there wasn't a single being,
To comfort us with soothing words like she once did.
When I was little, grandma was upset, they said,
Because I was the second DAUGHTER of her oldest son.
Believe me, this left me in the verge of Absolute delinguincy. Like how could that be?
Aunty ji uncle ji was always there for us.
Well, not in those times of jeopardy,
But at moments to chide us and humiliate us,
When nothing went right in our isolated days.
It wasn't you dear family.
It was my mum and dad all along.
Time has come for
Dear aunty ji and "vidwan" uncle ji,
To keep their opinions to themselves
And put a fullstop in investing so much time on conferencing for the future of someone else's daughters.
Because,when I was alone crying on my bed, 
Clutching into my bolster on the midnight of 3 AM. It wasn't you, o dear people 
It was only me and my gloomy thoughts.
If those people didn't accompanied me in my
Bad times,Why the hell should I attend to their advices in my good times?
Well, kids you know, understand and follow the moral values a little more than "vidwan" uncle jis of today's generation who Gulps down 
Shots of pied Piper before entering our religious family gatherings and those jealous aunty jis who gossips about the status of someone else's daughters.

It wasn't you dear people, it was always my mum and dad.
And you should remember that.
©mayurakshi18 #nojoto #poetry #relatives #indiansociety