That Night, in a Prison cell at Mathura

In a trance they sit,

The mother and father

Holding the new baby

All those years of waiting

All the hurt of hoping

And all the pain of losing

Already forgotten.

As they hold him

They appear to have

Frozen in time. I watch with anxiety And want to shout Get going! Now! What are you waiting for?The dark hearted one Will be here the minute He senses the eighth one! You can hold your baby And cover his silky body With tears of joy When the time comes. Now, get going!Image

Suddenly a bright light

Fills up the

Dreary prison walls

My beady yellow eyes

Almost pop out with fright

And I grip the wall tight.

Is it he himself?

Four armed, a bright disc

In an upper arm,

A glowing conch in another one

The lower left arm

Holding a lotus

Which seems to blush at his beauty

The right arm which says "Fear not"

Can dark be bright?

Can Sapphires glow with

The radiance of a million suns?

Can someone intoxicate

With a single smile?

Can a pair of eyes

Be filled with

So much compassion?

Can a voice wash away

The pain of long years?

As the great one speaks

Of his plans for them

The parents throw themselves

Before his radiant form.

He disappears and

The tiny one smiles

What sort of a newborn

Will be so quiet,

When he should be crying out

Shaking up the dark night?

The mother hugs

The tiny one once,

Sheds silent tears and

Swallows her whimpers.

Then, with trembling hands

She hands the treasure

To the waiting father

And as he looks at his

Hand cuffs , more

Incredible things happen.

Will miracles ever cease?

Will the magic of this night end?

Is this really happening or

Is this just a dream?

Clang! Broke the cuffs

Clang! Went all my ties

Of the temporal kind

Bang! opened the gates

Of the dark prison, and ,

Swoon! Fell the guards

With hope, his only companion

The father steps out of the

Now wide- open prison

With his baby boy.

I scurry out of the prison > As fast as I can > And drink in the sight > Of the newborn who lies > In a basket full of old clothes > Balanced on his father's head. > > But as he turned round the corner > I swear the magic baby smiled at me > As if to say "I've arrived!" > And made my lizard life worth living .

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PS: This was written around the Janmashtami of 2005.The occasion fills me with a certain awe every year.

As we decorate our floors with diluted rice dough and draw patterns we call "kolams" along the baby

  • sized foot prints, which are meant to symbolize his entry in to our homes and hearts, I wonder.

What was that night like? Were Devaki and Vasudev, the lucky parents, the only witnesses?

With the guards asleep, thanks to his magic we call Maya, who else could ‘ve witnessed the almighty in the form of a tiny baby, who arrived once again for us?

Who else was the lucky one?

Well, I've taken some liberties with this writing, but I don't think he'd mind.

This is also the night his Sister and female counterpart Maya was born to another set of lucky parents,

This holy night,let the Brother-Sister duo walk in to our homes and hearts .