When I was born
It is said that have jingled the most in father's lap in nights, swaddled
Only my mother could feed me the cerelac or else I'd spit
Then I was one ,two and three consecutively
At four,I remember my stubbornness for mother's cooked dishes to be as my tiffin
And scolding elders for not picking me up from school such that I had to return by the school bus
At five,I remember complaining for having being paid less attention to and everything pivotal to my new born brother
At six,I remember feeling old and yet surging and crying to get back early to home from the school
At seven,I remember getting my brother's shoe laces tied by my class teacher's son on the parent's teacher meeting day
At eight,I remember my mother working hard to get me 97 straight A's
At nine,I remember being averted by the admired people and wondering if I could make through
At ten,I remember loving maths and my class teacher a casual lymph
At eleven,things were turned upside down I had to restart
At twelve,by the end of the territory I had already made the way from aversion to appreciation
At thirteen,I found my leader and my stories found a narrator in me ,I was applauded by the crowd for the first time
At fourteen, my distinction was appraised and embraced
That had my mother's pride inflate
At fifteen, I was embellished on the crowns and my lady rediscovered me
Amid it had happened a trauma that I had,initially, considered with hurray
At sixteen,things begin to slip but my faithful guardian held my back every now and then,my mother
At seventeen,she was behind me through thick and thins
At eighteen,she pulled me from shore to pinnacles ,from hither to thither and shown me a world to belong
At nineteen,here I am my mother's braced armor,a scabbard that she's prepared,alongside the several stories of my ultra smart brother who has taught me honesty at the bays.