WELCOME CHILD

Bongs love their English and have many a Benglisized words and phrases to their credit. One such word is 'issue'.  While to the rest of the world this simple word would mean either a problem statement or an episode in the publishing world, to the learned Bongs however it could also mean children...for instance if some elderly were to ask you koyta issue tomaar means how many children do you have? 

Long time ago I was asked by the Editor of the quarterly magazine for National Insurance at Calcutta (it hadn't turned Kolkata then) to write for the Spring Issue....funnily  since I was an expectant father,  I wrote a few lines to my child yet to be born in the spring of '91. I then got it typed on the old type writer. As luck would have it, Debi was the Deputy Editor of the magazine and when she saw what I had written, she refused to publish it, not because it was unfit but she felt it was too personal to be shared. She kept the paper neatly folded along with her treasured possessions. It lay there untouched and unseen by anyone till my daughter turned 21. Debi was trying to put together an album with pictures of Mrittika and then I suggested to put this poem as a preface to the photo album...and she agreed. 

Sharing with you today, the lines written nearly a quarter of a century ago to my child to be born. Today I still believe in what I told my child then and happy to see her take on a profession where she will heal the wounded and bring smile to many.

Welcome Child to this earthly abode,

An abode that is wicked, cruel,

Treacherous, wild and polluted.

But still I welcome you, for you are hope

In Tagore’s words, “Every child born, it brings with it hope that God is not yet

Disappointed with man.”

If you ask me who you are,

I won’t be able to say.

Maybe you’ll carry a part of my name,

Rest you’ll come to know day by day.

Your religion- don’t ask me child,

For the only prayer I learnt in school

Said “Our Father in Heaven…”

Beyond that I know not much

Don’t bother too much about it kid.

Just remember to follow a humane path.

Have faith in Him, fear Him, love Him and the saffron, the cross & the crescent

will all follow.

When you’ll be born

You’ll be a tiny mini pigmy.

You’ll wet me and I’ll sing for you,

You’ll cry and I’ll cuddle you.

When you grow a little,

I’ll teach you nursery rhymes,

Rhymes that times would have changed.

I might say Johnny Johnny, Yes Papa

Eating brown sugar, No Papa

Telling lies, No Papa

Open your mouth, Ha..Ha..Ha.

Funny? No child it’s not.

World you grow up in will be different, For sugar won’t be sugar any more.

Then will come your Alma Mater days.

With bags filled with books,

That’ll weigh more than bricks.

I pity you kid.

For you’ll have to bear this burden.

But Baby, learn to run and play.

Be a kid when you’re a kid.

For childhood you must surely live

For beyond this hood

Lies pain, agony & misery.

Enjoy Child.

Then my mind goes towards your future,

What will you be? Que sera sera..is the easiest thing to say.

Do I want you to be a millionaire?

No..No…Never! For becoming one

You’ll eat into others’ pockets & forget humanity & humility.

I will never want you to walk

On a bed of roses, for the first whiff

Of dust will scar your tender skin.

Do I want you to conquer the world-

Another Chenghez, Another Adolf?

No..No..Never!

I’d rather see you play the fiddle

Than see you burn the world to ashes.

So what do I want to you to be?

Not much cause my want may not be what you can and your can must take precedence over my want.

But of course I’ll be happy to see-

You help a blind man cross the street,

Feeding a hungry person,

Clothing one with none;

Will be happy just to see you sweating it out to earn your bread.

 Just be a Good Soul, My Child.

Welcome Child, to this heavenly abode,

And for your stay, God speed you well.

Yours,

Baba

January 1991 

SS