Womb is my playground

Time flew like an arrow and here we arrived at the clinic for seventh month pregnancy check-up. Long queue meant we won’t be seeing the doctor until at least an hour. Waiting room was bustling with people and it took a while before we could find vacant seat to rest our legs. We were delighted at the opportunity to sit finally, notwithstanding long wait time. But the little one inside wasn’t as much pleased. After short stint of quiet squirmish inside, she decided to break out big on the stage with a performance that would turn onlookers sitting by into her captive audience. As she moved with extreme prowess, head to toe – no part was spared; left to right – no move excused; top to bottom – no section of stage left uncovered. The contour along my belly jumped up and down with great pace as if it were the monitor for a high pitch music beat played inside. Thin top I wore only augmented the experience for viewers. Finally, the long-awaited call arrived when the audience in the room were on verge to give up struggle to keep their curving lips straight. That call has brought a stellar performance to an abrupt end as we got up and walked into doctors room. But as it is said, nothing is static and no work of art is ever finished.

Later in the doctor’s room, when the typical monitor showed her outline, it wasn’t a mere shadow anymore. That little mouth slowly making a circle showed the exhaustion on her face; those tiny hands sprawling out, showed the fatigue and weariness after a solid performance; that arched back showed the desperation to rest after long fruitful day. It was as if we were watching her, not on a scanned ultrasound image, but on a high definition ultra-advanced TV. In that moment, watching her on that ultra-advanced TV, we also heard her announce the unsaid ‘World, await my arrival on big stage. Until then womb is my playground’

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