“Nothing’s more splendid for me, a book, than when a child
Through her brown eyes peers at me,
Holds me tenderly,
Smiles and weeps with me – learns good lessons,
Sometimes when I reveal a secret, she just sits, stunned!
Hugs me close when she sleeps,
My soul into her dream seeps!
‘I wonder what right I have to influence her so,
Who put ‘words in my mouth’ that carry such power;
My eyes become misty when I think of my creator,
With loving pain when he put me together,
He put the essence of his learning—of himself—in me,
I became him and he, me!
Inheriting his thoughts and character, I was set free!
‘And now, the little girl’s life which is entwining in mine
Is so different from the life that was breathed into me;
My spirit, though sparkling white, is monotonous in colour
Whereas she and her friends are so colourful;
She lives not in a world of merely men and women,
But with several ‘others’ who are now her brethren.
‘When she has to move forward in this new age
And march with her peers right into the change,
Will I suffice for her? New needs, new culture?
Do I touch her humane side enough?
My dream of making her scores better,
Is not what is required now, I see. It’s way more tough!
‘And yet, she loves me so! It’s wrong!
She needs to now dance to a different song.
Give birth to my progeny (and not just books),
That differs from me in thoughts, spirits and looks
She must create a world to call her own—
A world she sees through her own eyes, not mine!”
Said the Book.