OK

A seedling sown carefully under the wraps of mud and cocopeat

Watered with utmost care, neither too less nor too much

Exposed to enough sunlight

Despite the intensive care, the poor seedling doesn't take bloom,

Lo and behold, without an iota of doubt, the entire pot is moved

Or the mud is dug into, to look for anomalies.

Not once is the seedling ever blamed, it's no fault of the seed, after all –

Everyone would agree without batting an eyelid.

And then when it does bloom, there's so much joy we seek in the little things

Talk of it as though the growth took place because of our care.

Well, let's take the pride if we want to.

The plant wouldn't know a thing, for it’s blooming where it’s planted.

 

In another realm,

Something regular goes amiss

Draws two red lines, when detected

Turns into a tiny sac

Letting out beats per minute, heard through an amplified technology

And it's a real being, a real thing!

Boom! And it changes the whole world for the one carrying it

Every person, with some basic empathy, who gets to know this, offers so much advice and care

For just like the plant, it's an inkling, with a greater potential to grow, after all.

If it's water & sunlight for the plant,

It's good emotions, food and supplements for the tiny sac.

It’s a dependent, after all, anything the carrier inputs, would be its direct output – a tiny reflection

What manifests as a tiny sac, goes on to take different shapes while being afloat…

Whether the mud and cocopeat go through painful changes or not, as the plant tries to expand,

The tiny sac takes up all the space it can –  causing a plethora of changes for the person carrying it – hormonal and what not.

A pleasant feeling this is, unique, and exclusive.

Every movement would want to be documented, just like the flowers blooming.

It could very well be a mundane activity, a routine, like the sunrise and sunset,

But the person carrying it feels every ray of its expansion

To revel in the beauty of the tiny being –  the stretches, moves and the gestures.

What it does when it's out, is public

What it does within, is something that I'd call my own, MINE, in BOLD.

If you'd care to empathise, you'd exactly feel the thrill ride with me,

If not, then you're just an onlooker, seeing my body grow horizontally.

That there are so many emotions running beneath, like a current, is an experience of its own.

And just when I was thinking of these itsy-bitsy movements, there's a sign quite vividly visible on the monitor – OK.

Folded fists, with the thumb sticking out.

It isn't like an imagination of cloud formations resembling different countries on the sky,

The radiologist acknowledges it too, equally excited for me.

It's a real tiny sac that has grown all the way up to say OK when it's still afloat.

Creation, THUS, is a beautiful journey.

Each, to one's own, as I progress.

God's great.