The roster displayed the end posting marks of obstetrics and gynecology,
Messages flooding on the WhatsApp group about the attendance correction or who topped in theory.
There was not much I could remember of those 45 day posting.
But a memory that had left its imprints and was now more and more confounding.
The labour room filled with cries and shrieks,
Everyone in a hustle and a collective stress making me freak.
Class 11 the ' Birth ' chapter was always a source of intangible mirth,
But around me were bleeding vaginas, scary instruments, constant lamenting and torturous births.
Everything was still fine until a women with a macrosmic baby came to delivery bed,
The baby wasn't descending although it was hour since her waters shed.
Many exertions, maneuvers and numerous cinto infusion,
The baby still adamant to move inch down a station.
Meconium had passed and the conditions became tense,
One of the obstetrics climbed up the bed and starting pushing , things now making no sense.
However there was a crowning, your dark curly hair appeared,
Soon a episiotomy and instruments to pull your big heavy head geared.
Slowly but eventually you were out in one piece ,
Everyone from the doctor to nurses cussing you in relief.
The pediatrician soaked and dried but you remained taciturn throughout,
He placed you betwixed other babies in incubator, waking you up with their shouts.
You were twice their size but not half as lively as them,
Distressed by the long time trapped in cervical hem.
But then you made that puckered face and I tried to hear that silent cry,
You twitched your fingers as I noticed your each movement with pry.
You were back into colors and all the problems about to fathom,
I moved my fingers close to yours at a distance of Michaelangelo's creation of Adams.
You grasped it quickly and held it tight,
I am the first person you ever held, it struck me as light.
I know I overthink sometimes and try to increase situation's gravity,
At that point of time along with confusion I sensed an added responsibility.
A responsibility for you as I was the first on whom you put your trust ,
I'll never let you go said a emotional upheaval in me ,about to burst.
I felt as if you slightly opened an eye and smiled at me,
And before I knew your family took you and you left my finger free.
Idiotic or exaggerated whatever it may seem, some things should be left free from the realm of rationality;
I know that grasp was a unconditioned reflex ,a mere human physiology.
But it had given me a moment of tangible joy yet unrealistic imaginations,
And what are reasons after all nothing but most naive of all the superstitions...
Messages flooding on the WhatsApp group about the attendance correction or who topped in theory.
There was not much I could remember of those 45 day posting.
But a memory that had left its imprints and was now more and more confounding.
The labour room filled with cries and shrieks,
Everyone in a hustle and a collective stress making me freak.
Class 11 the ' Birth ' chapter was always a source of intangible mirth,
But around me were bleeding vaginas, scary instruments, constant lamenting and torturous births.
Everything was still fine until a women with a macrosmic baby came to delivery bed,
The baby wasn't descending although it was hour since her waters shed.
Many exertions, maneuvers and numerous cinto infusion,
The baby still adamant to move inch down a station.
Meconium had passed and the conditions became tense,
One of the obstetrics climbed up the bed and starting pushing , things now making no sense.
However there was a crowning, your dark curly hair appeared,
Soon a episiotomy and instruments to pull your big heavy head geared.
Slowly but eventually you were out in one piece ,
Everyone from the doctor to nurses cussing you in relief.
The pediatrician soaked and dried but you remained taciturn throughout,
He placed you betwixed other babies in incubator, waking you up with their shouts.
You were twice their size but not half as lively as them,
Distressed by the long time trapped in cervical hem.
But then you made that puckered face and I tried to hear that silent cry,
You twitched your fingers as I noticed your each movement with pry.
You were back into colors and all the problems about to fathom,
I moved my fingers close to yours at a distance of Michaelangelo's creation of Adams.
I am the first person you ever held, it struck me as light.
I know I overthink sometimes and try to increase situation's gravity,
At that point of time along with confusion I sensed an added responsibility.
A responsibility for you as I was the first on whom you put your trust ,
I'll never let you go said a emotional upheaval in me ,about to burst.
I felt as if you slightly opened an eye and smiled at me,
And before I knew your family took you and you left my finger free.
Idiotic or exaggerated whatever it may seem, some things should be left free from the realm of rationality;
I know that grasp was a unconditioned reflex ,a mere human physiology.
But it had given me a moment of tangible joy yet unrealistic imaginations,
And what are reasons after all nothing but most naive of all the superstitions...
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