Bus Baby

I put my child on the bus
And I prayed to God
That they might be able to fix her
I never thought in my wildest imagination
That she might be able to fix them
And at the same time,
That she might be able to fix us.

My baby’s eyes were huge with fear
She was afraid, and so was I
The doctors were kind, and they pressed my hand
"Don’t worry, we’ll do our best."
I prayed to Allah, and they prayed to Bhagwan
Different gods, same prayers,
And for once not a word from all the nay-sayers.

The gifts came while she was still asleep
Sweets, and Mithai, and bangles for her hands
Well-wishers sent so much:
Dolls and toys and books to read
And written in best child’s script, bags of letters,
"Dear Noor, I’m sorry you aren’t well,
I hope soon you’ll feel better."

We brought her home, and as we left
They gathered to wish us Godspeed
The doctors cried, the surgeon most of all
I’d never seen a grown man with tears in his eyes
They put garlands around our necks and hoped
We’d be back one day, we promised we would
They hugged Noor and made her promise to be good.

She didn’t smile, but her eyes were full of light
She knew something important had happened
Something big, to do with her heart
She was only a bus baby; she was only two, but why
not?
We went looking for her life,
And found something else along the way,
Who knows? We just might have found a start.