An Anonymous Confession #1

My mum is my harshest critic. When I saw my friends being showered with compliments by their mothers, “You are the apple of my eye”, all I got was, “When will you start dressing up like a girl.”
For years I thought she would never understand me, neither my love for books nor my fascination towards writing. She would crinkle her nose every time I picked a men’s Tee instead of a tank top. I would play Nirvana at the top volume and she would yell at me “What nonsense you listen to”. I grew up believing she disliked me and wished for someone else. But bad luck mum, you got stuck with me. I still like you though, when I’m not indifferent to you.
For years I saw you pouring your affections at my brother, even when he yelled at you and when I wiped away your tears. You never saw me. Or you did and thought, “Meh she’s okay. But where art thou my son?” Was it the chauvinistic society that changed the way you think, isn’t a mother supposed to feel love unconditionally?
I woke up at my 18th birthday, not expecting anything really, don’t know how you found out the book I had been wanting or the diary I craved to write in. You secretly knew how much I loved old Hindi songs, and somehow my playlist was on repeat. You told me, “I’m the luckiest mother alive to have a daughter like you.” I swear I wanted to break down and cry.
I don’t know what changed between all those years and now. Maybe you finally looked at the corner of your eye. But I am glad for those secret smiles we share now. I am glad to have a part of you all to myself.

By Alex

An Anonymous Confessor

Relationship Status: Mamma's Child

You showed me the sunrays,
One November morning
You became a mother
And gave me moments of life.
Filled me with love,
When I cried and cried,
Cuddled me to ecstasy.
I knew the safest zone of your adorable lap.....
I became my mamma's child.
Huddled to your loving love,
Spread my wings on your
Myriad strokes.....
Heard from you stories of past and present......
Trained at your finishing school,
Brought your reference everywhere,
Under your warmth, I grew
With ideals, no shadow
To be a woman of substance
Yet am pranked.......
To be mamma's child,
For my love unconditional!
I saw in you a double parent,
A bearer of my woes,
A knight in shining armour,
A king who taught me to rule,
A rebel who transcended
The boundaries if gender.
My upbringing was your sole criterion
When papa rode to Heaven.
Tender joys of yours...
Sacrificed for my well- being,
I saw in you a workaholic;
A zest to live life with a
New everyday.......
You have never greyed
In the school of learning,
Challenges that I overcame,
Exclusively through you
Yet the unworthy child of yours,
Should have rewarded more...
Beg pardon, still trying
To pen down my thoughts---
Humble tribute to the unparalled
Anchor of my life's shore,
'RELATIONSHIP STATUS: MAMMA'S CHILD'.

By Payel Ganguly

       

Granted

And so you travelled in a light ray and pierced through my core finding your way from a created creator, for you knew you will be a flawless mirror of all of the feminine that I nurtured all my living moments!
You moved with the strength of an ace swimmer through fjords and abysses of waterways that reeked of life giving blood. There was something you had to achieve and fulfill.
My womb, the field of your dreams that I fed as nine moons visited. There you saw yourself blossom a star unique. I shone bright through days and nights of anticipation . You had to gather and sort a part of me you wanted for yourself and look at you now!
Radiant in your challenge having been met! Now twenty nine years .
You have given birth to me and a mother did I become!
Only you could . It was in the plan .
All I ever wanted was a girl. You granted me that.

By Geethanjali Dilip

India

मातृत्व

 अँधेरी रात में एक रौशनी सी जगमगाई..

छम छम करती एक नन्ही आवाज़ ई..

“क्या कुसूर था माँ मेरा..

जो न तूने अपनाई’

क्या कुसूर था मेरे बचपन का’

जो तूने है ठुकराई |”

सुन कर ये आवाज़ माँ चौकी,

आँखों में आंसू आयी,

शब्दों के फेरे में खुद को,

थी वो खड़ी हुई पायी|

“चुप न रह तू बोल न माँ,

क्या बेटी होना पाप है?

क्या जन्मदाता के श्रेणी में,

खुद को लाना पाप है?

क्या जिसके वेग में आकर,

तूने मुझे अपनाया नहीं,

उसे भी अपने जन्म होने पर,

शोक हुआ होगा कहीं?”

बहती आंसू की धरा को

रोक न पाई माँ युही,

अपने अंश के दूर होने का,

हुआ उसे भी शोक अभी |

“क्या तेरे जन्म पर भी माँ

मनाया गया था मातम?

क्या उनलोगों के जन्म का

साधन नहीं होगा मात्रम?

क्या मेरे दुनिया में आने से,

तेरा मान घट जायेगा?

मेरे न रहने पर तेरा मातृत्व

बदल जायेगा?

क्या तेरा अंश नहीं मैं,

क्या नहीं मैं तेरा प्यार?

क्या नहीं तेरे आँखों का

तारा हूँ मै माँ?”

आँखों के धारा को,

रोक न पायीं अब वो माँ,

जिस अंश को अलग किया था

खोकर पछता रही थी अपार |

अचानक ही आँखें खुली,

टूट गयी बिजली की जाल,

कोख को उसने छुआ तो,

मातृत्व हुई हर्षहार|

“तू भी मेरा अंश है बिटिया,

तू भी तो हैं प्यार का भार,

तू भी तो मेरे जीवन का,

हैं परिचय का आधार |

मातृत्व की इस लड़ाई,

में न होगा तेरा संघार,

तू भी खिलखिलाती आएगी,

जगमगाने मेरा संसार|”

By Vanshika ( स्नेहा )

India



Dear Daughter

Dear Daughter,

I cried when I saw you cry, holding your daughter in your arms,
I know the feeling because I was also smitten by your charms.
The tears of happiness that filled my eyes,
The same moment of joy persists even though time flies.
I smiled when I saw you hugging your daughter close to your heart,
I know the journey of motherhood, which you are about to start.
The moments of mixed feelings that filled my mind,
The same potpourri of emotions dwells in you, which you are about to find.
I laughed when I saw you talking to her in a language of your own,
I know the joy because I have seen you through the stages you have grown.
The same enthusiasm that made every day special for me,
Will fill your life and you will look forward to new things to see.
The feeling of fulfilment in motherhood that brought unending happiness in my life,
Will gradually make you feel complete one day and help you break all the chains,
The little fingers caressing your face and the sparkle in those tiny eyes will help you forget all your pains.
So, take a deep breath, and get ready to enjoy the nuances of motherhood in every way,
Here’s wishing you the first and many more to come, moments of a very Happy Mother’s Day!

-Your loving Mother who will always be by your side.

By Debolina Coomar

India



Epitome of a Womb

Like a Banyan tree that sprouts its thickets ---
My mother bears the heat to bless me the shade.
Like a rill, she flows down the cascade ---
Carrying me inside in a covert for decades.

The lowly dust trampled by feet,
She lets me sleep, run and sit.
The infinite blanket, the sky, a stretch ---
My life circles her beautiful sketch.

Like an oasis in the world of mirage,
She strictly administers all my pages.
My strength like that of the never ending space ---
She nurtures, cares and enhances my pace.

The first drop of hope, the rains of summer,
Whose arrival turns the earth calmer,
As the miraculous discovery of spectrum by Balmer,
My Mother is the breeze of sea, a calmer.

A tremendous success of creation on earth,
For all the species like me under dearth,
Mother is the daffodil that guides a bloom ---
Removing all kinds of sadness and gloom.

She scolds, she hits but she weeps behind
For being so rude, scolds again if I find.
She loves; she cares but never takes credit
Of the heights I reach because of her edit.

Mother, an embodiment of this Nature,
I mark it or not, I would end in "Nature"---
The first of all wonders in the whole Universe,
A part of God's Muse, Mother's the best verse.

My, Mother, like all others, safeguards and smothers.
She is most concerned, than many other Fathers.
I owe you my life, my being, Mother.
For bringing me to light on earth, My Mother!

By Subhajit Sanyal

India


Till the end

On the stormy winter night someone walked past the gates of Welda Timothy. There was a knock on the door and she opened it. She looked around and there was no one. Then she heard a child crying. She glanced down and saw the most beautiful child wrapped in a towel, mewling some incoherent words. But it was the smile that won her heart.

Welda always wanted a child but god had other plans for her. She named the boy as Robert, in the memory of her late husband. She raised him as her own and never let him realize that he was an orphan. She played with him, laughed with him and taught him everything.

Robert was growing up to be a fine young lad. Tall and handsome he was. Welda made sure that he had a kind heart and gentle nature. She would say, "I know that you were at my doorstep for a reason. You were my angel. And angels have a gentle heart. And they always respect." It always made him laugh to think of it the way his mother told him. But he belived her anyway.

Welda took her last breath in her angel's arms. Robert was 25 when she died. She made him promise her that he will not fall back. That he will continue to prosper and show the world what a fine young man he was. She gave him a letter and asked him not to open it at that time

"You will open it when the time will come, not before," she said as she closed her eyes.

Robert kept the promise he made to his mother. He grew up to become a successful man and found a beautiful wife. They fell in love the first time they saw each other. A year after their first date they got married. They both wanted a baby. They made efforts for it but failed. They went to the doctors and found out that Robert was sterile. It crushed both of them. His wife Amanda would weep at nights. Sometimes he could find a tear or two in his eyes too. They thought that they were lost.

When Robert was sifting through the old documents he found a letter. It was his mother's letter. The one she gave him when she died. He took it and kept it safe. Every time he tried to open it his heart would shout, "Don't! Maybe it's not the time yet." He would keep it beneath his pillow every night he slept.

And then happened what he feared the most. His wife gave up on him. Left him for someone who can give her a child. He never blamed her. He was the one who was incapable. He always chalked it up to that. But nothing could dull the pain he felt. He was alone again, just like he was when he was left at Welda's doorsteps.

His mother's thought made him think about the letter. He went to his room and opened the it. It read...

" Robert dear,
If you are reading this then I assume that you are in the most dreadful state of mind. I know that I cannot help you now. I cannot hold you in my arms as you weep. Yes, you have to weep. You cannot keep the pain inside you. It will eat you up.

As for you, I have thanked god a thousand times for what he gave me. I was content with what I had before. But when you came into my life, my life was complete. The way you smiled at me, made me realize how little I had. And you, my baby boy was going to be my precious gift.

I am so proud, for the fine man you've become. You can't imagine how happy it would have made me to see you children. But here is what I need you to do. I know that I haven't done much for you, but I do know that something I did had made a difference in your life. And that makes me happy.

There is nothing more beautiful than to see your young one to grow up in front of your eyes. I wish that I would have found another angel like you. Angels are a gift and I want you to know how it feels to have an angel as a gift. So, I want you adopt a child and make his or her life a better one. I always wanted a girl, so it would be nice of you if it were a girl. I want you to keep her, love her and protect her. Give her life a meaning. Make a difference in her life. Tell her about me. How I rubbed your nose when you were little. Help me be remembered. And I want you to love your angel 'till the end'.

Your mother
Wenda "

A single tear rolled down his eyes as folded the letter back. And it took moments before broke down.

Next day he found himself surrounded by babies in the orphanage. All crying and mewling. He was scanning though the babies lying in their cradle when he saw a girl. A little baby playing with a small toy in her hand. She was small and had a whisp of golden blonde hair. But the smile reminded him of his mother. He picked up the girl and whispered in her ear.

"Till the end."




A Story by Avinash Kumar Verma
India.

After Many Years...

Olamide Wiped A Tear As
The Nurse Brought The Baby To Her.She Carried Him,wiping Another
Tear.She Was Finally A Mother,her Husband,Jide Walked In,trying To
Bury The Emotions As He Smiled At Her,embracing Her And Their Baby.For
More Than Six Years Of Marriage,they Were Childless.Jide's Mother,had
Been The Typical In This Case Nigerian Mother In Law Because Of
'mide's Childlessness.She Wanted Jide To Marry Another Wife So She
Could See Her Grandchildren Before Death.'Mide Ran Pillar To
Post,nothing,but Now She Was A Proud Momma Of A Bouncing Baby
Boy.Jide's Mother,"mama" As She Was Fondly Called Had No Say Now Just
Like The Neighbours Who Carrie Rumours And Gossips.She Was Now A Proud
Mum And This Was The Beginning Of Another Ride,the Ride Of
Motherhood,and She Was Ready,to Get Behind The Wheel.She Didn't Care
How Long,she Was Ready,to Drive,move Forward,and Enjoy Every Single
Moment In The Ride Called MOTHERHOOD.

By Therealbisi Amori

Nigeria


ममता

 

उसके बूड़े कदमो को, राह में तूने छोर दिया,

उसके आँखों के आंसू से, युही मुहँ फेर लिया |

उसके संघर्षो को तूने, ठुकराकर बर्बाद किया, |

उस ममता की छाया से तूने, युही नाता तोड़ दिया |

तेरे सिसकी भर ले लेने से,

जिसका दिल था काँप उठता ,

तेरे आँखों के आंसू को, जिसने अमृत सा था पान किया,

तेरे पालन पोषण पर जिसने,

अपना सर्वस्व डाल दिया,

तेरे ख्वाइशो का जिसने सर्व प्रथम ध्यान किया |

तेरे कामयाबी पर जिसने,

गर्व किया, मान किया,

उस ममता की छाया से तूने, युही नाता तोड़ दिया

हर दुआ में जिसके ,

रहता था तू भरा,

हर घड़ी जिसने था तेरा ही ध्यान करा,

हर पल अपने जीवन का जिसने,

तुझे सवारते बीता दिया ,

उस ममता की छाया से तूने, युही नाता तोड़ दिया |

आज तुझे याद आती है,

उसके ममता का आँचल,

आज तेरे आंसू की हर एक,

बूँद पुकारती उसे अचल,

आज तेरे मन की व्यथा,

चाहती है उसे बगल,

जब तेरे भी अंश ने तुझको,

उसी राह पर डाल दिया,

याद कर मुर्ख जब तूने था,

उस ममता की छाया से नाता तोड़ दिया |

By Sneha Pandey



Divinity of a Mother

It's irrefutable she's divine
No briefing one needs to define
Inherent her nature to give
From the time her baby lives
Her skin rips apart to give life
after gestation of months nine
She's like a delicate feather
to her defenceless child tender
In delicacy lies her strength
Heart and soul brim with love at length
As nectar her pure love flowing
Blood from veins to feed her suckling
At times she's like Hercules
Multitasking bundle of surprise
Twenty four seven on her feet
Noble dame of monumental feats
deprives self to feed her child
her child's well being's cause for her smile
Silently vows to win her strife
No dearth to sacrifice her life
What more proof's needed to illustrate
Mother's more than divine, I'd state

By Sunila Khemchandani

An angel: My mom

When I think of where I came from
Only a word comes to my mind n that is mom
Although I'm grown up yet I often rest in her lap
to get the sweetest and the calmest of naps
She touches my hair with loads of love
And makes the angels smile above
Her love's warmth cures me of my pain
When I'm with her I only gain
Her grey hair reminds me what she lost
in rearing and nurturing her tiny tots
Her wrinkles tell me the tales gone by
listening to them I can only sigh
She prays for me day and night
to make my whole life fulfilling and bright
When I leave the house she bids good bye
she is restless till I'm back, I don't know why?
When I whither in pain she weeps with me
Her eyes tell me, more pain bears she
If someone asks do angels exist?
I say yes, in mothers, they subsist.....

By Fatima Afshan

She

She is a calm sea
Azurine blue
She is a woman

She is the beautiful hill green
Where many birds nestle
She is a woman

She is a pair of oars
Directing her sail
She is a woman

She is a beautiful flower
Spreading fragrance everywhere
She is a woman

She is the sky azurine
Where hopes fly high
She is a woman

She is a hen
Covering her chicks with feathers
She is a woman

She smiles when tears well up
holding the tears between the lids
She is a woman

She suffers in silence
Without a word
She is a woman

She is the universal mother
Busy loving all around
But alas! She forgets to love herself!

By Sarala Balachandran


Niswarth hai prem uska...

Sabka khyaal rakhti woh,
Par uske liye sochta na koi,,
Do waqt ka khana ghar ka sara kaam,
Pal bhar na mile usey koi aaram,,
Sarhane rehti woh jab bimar padta koi,
khud kabhi na rukti kisi kaam se kabhi,,
Mamta ka angan sada vo lehrati,
Chot joh lagti daudi vo aati,,
Niswarth hai prem uska,
Sabse pyaara, pyaar hai uska,,
Jahan ka sukoon uski gaud me aaye,
Maa se jada mujko koi na bhaaye,,
Sukh dukh ki saathi "MAA",
Dil mein joh pehla khayal aaye vo "MAA",,
Charano me uske jannat hai,
Mile har janam, janam usise yahi minnatey hai.......

By Monika Lambekar

Unconditional Love

You are the one ,
Who gave me birth;
You are the one who taught me,
To walk on my little feet on this earth;
You are the one,
Who helped me see this world,
"Ma" was the first word,
That I uttered;
You are the One,
Who gave me a name;
Though I am a fool,
You treated me like a gem;
You are the one ,
Who stood beside me like a pillar;
You are an exception,
For love who didn't charge me dollar;
Your love is pious,
Your love is divine;
You are my lord,
You are my shrine;
 I talked to you roughly,
But you always replied in soft tone;
I didn't respect your love,
But your heart never turned into stone;
Born in a country,
Which treats cow as a mother;
But now time has changed,
In Old age she is left to suffer;
Her own son treats,
Her as a burden;
And forgets the pain,
She took to make him good human;
Today once again,
I am deserted and alone;
I want to lie down my head in your lap,
And cry for all wrongs I have done;
Forgive me for my nuisances,
Mom don't leave me alone ever;
 Whatever world may call me,
But I want to be my Mumma's boy forever...

By Happy Kumar
India


सच्चाई की सूरत

सच्चाई की सूरत है मेरी माँ
ममता की मूरत है मेरी माँ
अल्फाजों की कमी हो जाती है ये बयान करने में
कि कितनी खूबसूरत है मेरी माँ

जब मैं हँसता हूँ तो
उसे जिन्दगी की सारी खुशियाँ मिल जाती हैं
जब मैं रोता हूँ तो
उसकी जिन्दगी कुछ थम सी जाती है

जब उसका सब्र टूटता है
तो खुदा भी उसके सामने बेबस नजर आता है
ना जाने कहाँ से ये हुनर उसे मिला है
कि दुनिया चलाने वाला भी उसके सजदे मे सर झुकाता है ।

By Nitin Kumar


My own personal treasure

When I first laid my eyes on you I knew I loved you at first sight
I prayed to the Lord to make everything alright
As I touched my baby boy there were tears in my eyes
I felt like I was in baby paradise

Ten little fingers, ten little toes
I twinkle in your eye, a little button nose
I loved you more than I loved me
I felt the little beat of your heart and I was happy as could be

You were such a blessing, the best gift a woman can ask for
I held you tight as I was on my journey home and walked through the door
The blessing of producing life is so overwhelming and breathtaking
The creation of life in the making

A bundle of Joy From Heaven gives a woman much pleasure
My own personal treasure
How can anyone bring a child into this world
And totally abandon that little boy or girl

Why would any mother deny that child of any of its rights
Throw him or her out into this cruel world and battle so many fights
When it's time for karma to fight you back
It will not be pretty and there will be no slack
Always cherish God's gift of that little girl or boy
There is nothing like an angelic baby girl or boy and its joy!

- Sayan Basak

From bride to mother

Her kumkum was a radiance
to irrigate the ripples of boundary
Her Kaazal embellishes the
deck of is victory
Her accessories accessorizes the
ambiguity of wads
Her bangles and anklets
waiting for real him tonight
Her golden imprint saree
values her rate this night
Will she melt her in his incense
Or will she crack her bangles for his need
Will his vermillion, cupboard her vanity in red
Or she will prism her dreams from weed
Is she a bride or 15year teenage girl
Let you say on behalf!

By Sunayana ( Yana )

Indonesia


That's our Mom

If there is any divine power,
That is in our mom.

If there is any Angel on the earth,
That is our mom.

If there is any God whom we can see and talk,
That is our mom.

If there is any person whom we can rely,
That is our mom.

If there is any love which is purest and true,
That is our mom.

By Kriti Singh

Main aapka beta hu, Maa...

Woh boli
"Har roz kapde gandhe kar aata hai,
Mera kaam badata hai "

Aur us din jab me haar kar aaya
Wo muskurakar boli , aaj sham khelne na jaega..
Kya aaj sham kapde gandhe kar na aaega ..

Wo janti hai , ke main haar gaya hu,
Aaj phir haar kar aaunga.. !!
Phir ghar kapde gandhe kar aaunga,
Aaj phir unka kaam badaunga,
Woh mujhe, na bhejne se rahi !!

Aaj tho jamkar khela,
Gandhe hone ki soch ne aaj na rokha..
Aaj phir ghar aaya,
Par
Ek muskurahat ke sath aaya..
Maa ne sikhaya tha
Haar toh hoti rahegi,
Chah rakho thodi si koshish karne ki,
Manzil khud pass aaegi chah rakho daud lagane ki ...



Aaj phir Maa ne chilaya...

Maa's Favourite Doll

 

Maa says as a daughter I had always been her doll.
A doll that she owns.
She tells me that I was the doll she always wished for, she makes me travel time while narrates me stories of her childhood.
A few years back when I was on the childish trail of collecting Barbie dolls, maa told me she wanted me to meet someone.
Since childhood I loved meeting new people hence I ran up to my cupboard and took out my favorite baby pink frock and ran back to maa saying get me ready I want to look pretty. She kissed my forehead and told me I looked beautiful always and that the frock gets prettier when I wear it.
She dressed me up and tied me two little ponytails applied kajal on the back of my left ear lobe.
Then I didn't know the reason, for now I know it was her love.
Maa held my hand and took me to the store room and asked me to wait while she took a red suitcase out from the big silver almerah
She opened the suitcase to take out a doll
A doll that was unique
It was a doll made of clay
It was beautiful
It too had two ponytails just like me
It made my little heart sprang up in great joy while maa introduced me to titli
She made me notice the frock worn by the doll titli resembled my baby pink frock.
Maa made me sit on her lap while she said how naani maa stitched the frock for the doll and how maa fell in love with her doll she told me how she talked to titli doll for hours and wished she could reply.
She told me the doll was her best friend and that I was her perfect titli doll.
Since that day maa and me are best friends forever while the clay doll made my collection of dolls look complete in every way.

By Snigdha Banerjee

माँ या मज़दूर



साथी बहुत हैं उसके,
बेज़ुबान हैं, अनजान हैं।
रसोई के सामानों से ही,
मेरी माँ की पहचान है।

बहाकर पसीना सारा दिन,
क्यों होती चकनाचूर है?
बस यही बात खटकती है,
वो माँ है या मज़दूर है।

भरकर मक्खन रोटियों में,
हर रोज़ परोसा करती है।
खुद खाकर सब्ज़ी पुरानी,
अपना गुज़ारा करती है।

सुनकर डाँट शिकायत सबकी,
छुप कर वो रो लेती है।
कभी कभी तो माँ मेरी,
भूखे पेट सो लेती है।

तबियत ख़राब होने पर भी,
काम उसे ही करना है।
खाकर दावा, पानी पीकर,
रसोई में फिर थकना है।

गूंथ रही आटा देखो,
आदत से मजबूर है।
बस यही बात खटकती है,
वो माँ है या मज़दूर है।

साफ़ कराने होते उसको,
पर्दे कितने गंदे हैं।
घर की कई बातों पे जो,
पर्दे ही तो ढकने हैं।

चिल्लाकर बच्चों पे उसका,
गला बैठ सा जाता है।
पूजा पाठ करती फिर भी,
रब से जो इक नाता है।

हर चाय में चीनी कितनी,
माँ को याद सब रहती है।
नमक दाल में कम न हो,
फ़िक्र लगी उसे रहती है।

कई सालों से गायब पड़ा,
उसके चेहरे का नूर है।
बस यही बात खटकती है,
वो माँ है या मज़दूर है।

नाश्ता ख़तम करते ही तो,
तैयारी में जुट जाती है।
दोपहर के खाने की जो,
फरमाइश उसे आ जाती है।

रस्सी पे जो टाँगे कपड़े,
वो भी तो उतारने हैं।
खुद भले भीगे बारिश में,
कपड़े मगर सुखाने हैं।

इकट्ठा करके तेल मसाला,
अचार आम का बनाना है।
त्योहारों में भी छुट्टी नहीं,
घर को जो सजाना है।

हमेशा कमरा तैयार रखती,
मेहमानों का ज़रूर है।
बस यही बात खटकती है,
वो माँ है या मज़दूर है।

बर्तन को घिस-घिस कर,
नाखून टूट गए हैं।
माँ की उँगलियों में अब तो,
गड्ढे भी पड़ गए हैं।

नाखूं जब टूटे हुए,
रंग चढ़ते नहीं हैं।
कच्ची दीवारों पे अक्सर,
रंग चढ़ते नहीं हैं।

उम्र भी बढ़ती जा रही,
पर माँ तो ठहर गयी है।
आज भी काम करती हुई,
वो घर पे सिमट गयी है।

आँखें मेरी छलक पड़ीं,
अरे, कैसा ये दस्तूर है?
बस यही बात खटकती है,
वो माँ है या मज़दूर है।

-अमनदीप सिंह

A Mom without a Baby...

“What is Motherhood ?” , if you ask someone; the possible answers you may get are “Feelings of a lady for her child is known as motherhood”, or in social aspect we can say, “ The responsibility towards small kids for their bring up with love and care though they are biologically yours or not it doesn’t matter.” , etc. But does Motherhood really have something to do with kids only…? What if I say that a 10 year old girl is a mother of 34-year-old man. You my say I am crazy but I have seen such a small mother. 
It’s been two years for this incident. I had gone to my Grandma’s house for holidays. I used to go there in every summer. After dinner we used to go out for a walk. That day also we had a tasty dinner together and started a walk towards Lord Ganesha’s Temple which was around 10-15 min. away from her house. Comforting breeze was flowing around and we both were enjoying our talk and walk. She was in the efforts of enriching my personality by telling her life experiences and I was enjoying to listen to them like a story. We reached to the temple, climbed those 15 steps and finally entered in temple premise. It was late at night; so hardly 6 -7 people were there. I noticed a small girl seated at the corner of the temple and was tying hibiscus flowers with a string. She was wearing a green colored frock which was torn from many sides. Her hair was covered with dust and hence was faded in color. She was so small that she could barely understand this highly practical society but still her little hands were doing their job so neatly. 
I pointed at her and said to grandma, “ Poor girl !!!” Grandma smiled for a moment and said, “Don’t judge her by her looks, she is the strongest girl I have ever met. !” I was about to reply but she continued saying, “She doesn’t have shelter. She lives here only in the temple. She sells flowers to make some money for taking care of her child… “; now I broke her sentence and asked…. “What…!! Child!!!!” Grandma smiled and said,” Let me show you, come with me.” We went in a hut at the back of the temple. When I peeped inside the hut I was shocked. I saw a middle aged man, half paralyzed; lying down on a bed. I asked grandma, “who is he?”. Grandma started saying, “This is Suresh. Its been 3 years back, Suresh was a priest of this temple. He was living happily with his wife Meena and daughter Kusum. One day they were returning from their hometown and suddenly they met with an accident. Unfortunately that day Kusum lost her mother and her father got half paralyzed. At that time Kusum was just 10 years old. She did not even know how to handle the situation. Some NGOs and orphanages came to take her with them but she refused to go. She was worried that if she wont be there, who will take care of her father. Because her father was not even able to move from either side. She stood strong in such deadly situation, she left her school and started selling flowers in the temple. From that day onwards she became mother of suresh. She earns for him. She Cooks food for him. She feeds him, she takes all care of him just like a mother does for her child. “
 I was stunned. ”Oh my god what a brave girl she is. In the age when she herself needs a shelter from mother; she is doing all this for her father. May God give her strength in her difficult times!!”, I prayed. That day I realized that motherhood is just about love and affection. It has nothing to do with the age. That day I saw a mom without a baby, in form of Kusum.    

A Story by Utkarsha Nikam
( A real life Story )

Your absence hurts...

It is the Mother’s Day today; the entire social media walls are flooded with messages flaunting the love people have for their mothers. I do not know about the inception of this day or the history behind an auspicious celebration but what I can say is that this one day has gained ample significance in the recent years. Folks celebrate it in remembrance of the dutiful services of their mothers and to recognize their unconditional love and utterly pure affection.

I was scrolling down my face book newsfeed and the happy faces and those long-short textual posts filled with sweet gratitude grabbed my attention. For a moment, I was lost. Lost somewhere in my past, lost in the dark.

My deep line of thought broke by the interruption caused due to the voice of my roommate who placed a call to her mother in order to wish her. His sugar-coated conversation delighted me always but today it disturbed the peace of my mind. I wanted to escape from this reality. I felt a lump that choked my throat. Soon the atmosphere turned suffocating and I could not breathe properly. I felt dizzy. So, I came out and went around the streets. While I was rambling along the meadows, a thought pierced me. It appeared as if that seed of thought will ruin me. It was not the first time. The fatal thought kept coming to me quite often. A solution to get myself rid of it was elusive. I was terribly chained with my own musings. Those shackles were a blockade in the path I wished to tread to set myself free.

I wanted to sit as my head was getting heavy. I sat on an empty bench and gently closed my eyes. The mind again started to wander. This created a chaos. The swift appearance of my past events hurt me. All of a sudden, I opened my eyes in disbelief. I was all alone and empty within. The solitude is the most faithful friend but at times, even it deceives us. We may conclude that we can vent our pent up emotions by self reflection and free ourselves but then the reality bites us so hard that all we seek is a generous company. I went back to my hostel only to gaze at the cheerful boys enjoying themselves. All of them seem to be happy and here I was surrounded with spites of my despondence.

My roommate noticed that I was not in the present moment. The grief ingrained on my face was clearly visible – to the ones who wanted to peek through the superficial layers and see the hidden things.

Therefore, he took me in a corner, in a secluded area and questioned about what was bothering me so hard. I kept silent and he further prodded.

And suddenly, tears came rolling down my cheeks. The piled up emotions just collapsed. Since childhood I was taught that the boys are not meant to cry. But that day in the heat of the moment I forgot everything. I just wanted to let it go. That was the day I confided in my friend and told him that that my mother left me as soon as I was born. She eloped because she never loved my father. She abandoned me. I was brought up in an orphanage because my father didn’t want to shoulder his responsibilities as well. Since childhood I used to glance at the ecstatic faces of the children revealing in the company of their mothers. How badly I have desired to bask in the love of my mother. I wished that someday she’ll comeback, caress my hairs and sing to me those melodies under the moonlight. She will embrace me and I will be safe under her grip. I used to pray to god to please bestow me with the most valuable and priceless possession – a mother. But my prayers never got answered.

And today when I see others celebrating Mother’s Day; I complain to almighty whether why he kept me aloof from savouring the elixir - a mother’s love.

My friend was stunned hearing this. He wiped my tears and hugged me tightly. Later I talked to her mother and I felt really good. Her gentle words healed me. But yet there is a void that can never me filled.

 

I still wonder where are you Mom and why and how did you left the child who owe his life to you !!!!!

By Khyati Gautam