A cursed moment. The birth of a soul in the womb. A deliberate try without capsules.
Curses soon change into prayers. Prayers for forgiveness. To the far away Gods in the land of temples and coconut palms. I wonder did ever the two souls know that Hindu gods do not forgive. Flesh & senses enveloped the new born soul. A punishment that couldn’t be stopped. Like fate! Like life! Like everything else we think of!
She paced through 5 months of guilt and 4 months of hatred. Guilt for the mistake and hatred for the gender of the growing foetus.
It was clear that it rained that day, where the Gods celebrated. The day that inexplicable pain clutched her muscles. She cursed once again for the last time.
Following a lengthy attempt to push the pest out of herself, the bloody child fell into a filth called world. All ignored and yet healthy.
It rained heavier there, making the soil sink in contentment. There where celebration was at its peak. Immeasurable happiness that existed in the same soil. Only in that same soil. All lush & welcoming. The Gods too.
I was born!
Blessed by god. Cursed by all.