On Mother's Day


If I were a celebrity or something I would have managed to get hold of some swimming juniors of some badass, smart, non-asshole guy and had myself a baby. Despite my liberal rant I am still not mature enough to accept the concept of adoption yet and I guess mostly I would be curious to know how my own offspring might turn out. Will she have my skin? My eyes? Oh, I hope she has my smile. I don’t care too much for the blunt nose I inherited from my grandmother. But her IQ should be better than mine. Better enough to pass Game Theory exam without having to burst into tears driven by panic attacks. Talking about panic attacks, I sincerely hope she turns out to a happy human being sans the long shadow of anxiety, clinical depression, or any other kind of mental illnesses.

Oh I know, the choice of pronoun till now has been deliberate. Whenever I daydream about having a child it invariably becomes a ‘she’ in my imagination. Someone not too long back has predicted that my palm says I would have a son. But I am ready to bet against it. Undyingly optimist I am. Can’t help it. Not to mention I shudder at the thought of raising a small version of one of the dickheads I have dated, rejected, despised all throughout my life. And there’s no way in any hell I would want to become one of those evil mothers whose chemistry with their sons borders on being downright incestuous.

Nah, I would rather lay on my bed with my eyes transfixed at the ceiling visualizing myself as the Amazonian queen raising my own little Wonder Woman. In my head, she is everything I have always aspired to become. Fierce, independent, brilliant, brave, and strong. She is a warrior. Not to mention sexy as hell. She is probably a loner like me because half the men in the world do not fucking deserve her. And I don’t think that even matters. Because girl like her does not need a saviour anyway.

Happy mother’s day to all the mothers who have raised/are raising their warriors. You are a bloody queen. (Including my own mum, because even though we disagree quite a LOT; she is the one in my life I love the most.)



p.s. I am the worst child in the world perhaps. I never care to ring my mum up. Even today, she called. She lives in a small world where first world concepts like Mother's Day etc would seem alien to her. She had called me to check up on my backache. I know, the worst child in the world. We talked for about an hour and half; mostly gossiping about small-time celebs. She had started asking me about my marriage plans again when the call got automatically (I swear on all the gods it was so) disconnected. Sign from the Providence? Anyway. Love you ma.

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