Saying 'womb to tomb' is injustice to all that transpires in between. Crying, burping and running around like a monkey. In fact, telling how a monkey sounds Because the baby is blooming, not like a flower but like a rainbow, not limited to just seven hues but acing a colourful feat up in the sky, in full prime. A view for sore eyes. A babble for parched soul, and a movement for a still transient life. The baby is blooming, chasing flies unabashedly, gyrating to grandma's prayers playfully, calling birdies of all shapes and waving to cows every now and then. Because the baby is blooming. more than what her mother imagined, better than what her father planned. My baby.
Alpana teaches in a government college of Gurugram, Haryana. She can either be found gyrating to her toddler’s jingles or googling nutrition loaded baby recipes, her favourite pastime these days.
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