Irony Diaries #3

On two ends of a room,

Stood two women

And in between them,

Lay a cradle,

Where an infant cried

Hungry, for his mother’s milk.


“What if I can never truly raise him as my own?”

“And what if the world points fingers”

And what if he grows up and asks for you?”

Yashoda asked Devaki.

Question after question after question.


Devaki smiled, and sighed, softly.

“Yes I gave him birth.

But it is out of your heart that he shall grow

You, are whom he shall fear in childhood

And you, are whom he shall love dearly

Even more than his Radhika.

You must, Yashoda, you must

For I am bound in chains.

My motherhood begs you,

to adopt my Kanha. 

And this debt of yours

I shall repay, this way.

Each time. the world speak of him

Even though he is mine,

Flesh, blood and spirit

Yours, Yashoda, and your only

Is what he shall be known as.”

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