Arjji

Every birth is a miracle; more of a miracle; not less; but his two hands and his two feet are tiny miracles in themselves; the four first toys he’s yet to discover and enjoy; we can’t take our eyes off them - their perfection. but his face..still crinkled, his lips almost disdainful; as if he’s not yet ready to face the world, put on a face for the world; it’s not even a world to have a view about as yet. Lucky him. So he doesn’t know as yet that he’s to be named Arjuna; that he’s yet to discover whether it’s a burden or a blessing to be given that name which he’ll hear crooned so many times: ‘Arj…Arjji…Arjunaji… Arjuna…’ and gradually it’ll sink in, that there’s someone else… and me myself… they’d prayed, as is the ancient custom, to bring a great and noble soul into the world; his father Krish, that’s Krishnaji has taken on a new role too; there’s more to birth, and name, and life… it takes a lifetime to find out.