// The First Born

Being the first born is blissful.
When you know to look for the right corners and alleyways,
you'd know how beautiful it really is to be the first born.

(Full blog in caption)

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"Learn to adjust"
"You have to be a rolemodel"
"They'll do exactly what you are doing so behave properly "
Dialogues every first born is tired of hearing

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I'm the Eldest Daughter. I obsess over academic Validation,
can only escape the never ending train of thought in my mind when I'm reading,
I'm an overly logical cynic but also a hopeless romantic, cry over everything but refuse to show emotion in front of anyone.

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From an age that is far too young,
We are asked to go long,
Look after your brother,
Protect and care for your sister.

When at this point in our lives,
We don't yet know how to even look after ourselves,
We become parents to children we never birthed,
Yet our sacrifices largely go unfeted.

We are asked to step up way too early,
Many of us enjoy our childhood merely,
Many of us are expected to follow in the footsteps of our parents,
No leeway to choose your own path or express our talents.

"Omekannaya," they call us,
"Oyirinnaya," some hail us,
But no one asks if he actually wanted to be like Nna ya,
No one cares if he has his own different kind of fire.

Granted, not all first borns are so heavy-laden,
But for many of us, we are just like Raiden,
Constrained by our position to often be the sacrificial lambs,
If only we would be allowed to live a little before making this climb.
© Pendullum.

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‘Ma’
I was washing utensils. Tired of everything and of life. Nuclear family doesn’t stop your in - laws from coming or giving you space. Bathroom was still left to be washed. I have decided to do it when taking a shower. Don’t get me started on the dining table and other rooms. ‘Ma,’ I was rinsing when I first heard it. ‘Ma,’ the voice came again. And when I turned around I found my son calling out to me. He was sitting in his night clothes at the door. Two fingers in mouth. ‘Ma,’ he said again and all my tiredness gave away. I full of energy once again. I picked him up and kissed him a million times. He didn’t know how he had turned my day to a brighter one. He got happy when he saw me being happy. There were tears in my eyes but in the end it’s all worth it.

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The cursed are the first born
Never given any turn
To live in the race run
Here life seems to be poetic pun

The onamotopoeia clings
Inside the heart
The poetic devices destroyed
In me apart

Life O life

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As I braved an episodic
day and night Pregnancy sickness,
Sweet November had marched in
arm-in-arm with a chilly weather,
orchestrating
the 'symphony of love'
back in my life.
It was overwhelming to watch
the vibrant display of gold,
scarlet and orange leaves
offer a spectacular show of fall foliage.
I realised then that November
beautifully embodied the meaning
of the word 'self-celebration.'
You can see the self-celebratory passion
In the way November magically tosses
Hue-changing leaves
to mark its own welcome.
November and I had developed
an in-depth connection
both yearning to nurture and care
For the blossoms,
and to get a head start
to the parenting season.
That pretty much sums up
why I gave birth
To a November born baby girl
She was the showstopper
in the spectacular fall show of 2014
Doe-eyed, with blank expressions
To me, November will always be
sweeter than pie.

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Bright light clasped around
I was given a choice -
I heard His voice.
It was pre-destined.
My entire life was revealed.
My purpose shown.
The path where the road forked
And the revelation of each decision -
I agreed.
Did not doubt, did not question
Obedience beyond mortal comprehension.
Through choices made, here I am.
I stand before you.
My rightful name God all along knew.

He knew my steps, He knew my cries, He knew the conditions I would reside.
Stubborn, adamant, envious -
I forgot all that was told.
Doubt, gluttony, pride -
Consumed the core of my soul.

Yet He stood by me.
Like a parent near a wayward child.
I came into existence -
To be my parents first born child.

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Only For First Born :

Till the grave you will hear "Let it go and sacrifice to your sibling as you are the eldest one"..
Whatever you struggled to own will be granted to your sibling...
You are always responsibile by chance and not by choice...

And in everything a part of you will be lost.

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Muhammad Omar ❤️

You Were Not Born Out Of Me..
But You Will Forever And Ever Remain My First Born..!!
13 Years Of Pure Love And Happiness..!!

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