Origins of a Mother | Rashi Choudhary

You wed the beautiful man,

The promising boy, the pretty lad,

He's a jolly chap, a solid guy.

Everybody said a pretty prince for our princess.

You always wanted to be your own queen.

But perhaps you could settle,

Just this once, for this darling male,

This family man- all charming smiles.

You fell so desperately for him,

And the mountains were so cold.

Two months later you tell him,

"I am having our child."

His half-smile spells fearful joy,

You know this man now,

Know him enough to guess-

The first thought in his mind,

Is the new shackle binding him.

You know this man, your husband

Is bound to his father's family

Before yours, you know which duties

He places first, which relations, which bonds.

You resent him, you love him.

When your daughter arrives,

In unwilling splay of limb, you realise-

You birth this child, this child

With her trilling cries, her bloody body,

And your eyes.

You know then, you know it

In your bones and you swear

You swear with your very soul

She won't suffer your fate,

She won't be at another's mercy,

She'll rule her own land,

So you claim her, anoint her,

With mother's blood-

As mother's child.