My dear friends Rupa and Kiran welcomed their second child into the world yesterday. While the wee lad doesn't have a name yet, he certainly does possess a personality - at only 18 hours old! He fluttered his wispy eyelashes, although infants can not see until a few days after birth. I was so moved by watching the new mother, battered by the ravages of birthing and yet proud of her grand creation. The father was also exhausted but soberingly vocal while speaking to a group of visiting men.
"You can't imagine how much a woman goes through. You can't imagine the pain she has to endure. I couldn't handle it myself at first. Imagine having to endure that for hours is crazy."
Hats off to Kiran for voicing a tribute the creative force and endless strength of womanhood.
But the visit wasn't all about the gore of delivery. There were sweet spots. Rupa's aunt bringing in a tupperware full of her favorite Kitchadi, sour rice flavored with nuts and seasonings. Kiran's brother and fiancee - looking longingly at the little man with cherished dreams of their own. Rupa's father, cradling the newborn after swearing he wouldn't touch him until the age of 6 months. And Rupa herself, reigning over her guests as majestically as a queen. Handing out Indian sweets - Misurpak, Ladoos, Rasmali - as is the Indian custom. Sweets made from milk and sugar to celebrate a birth.
And as I finished this post I got a call from the happy Mama, notifying me that baby was indeed christened with a name, that being Om. The all-encompassing symbol of mystical entity. How fabulous is that!
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