I smell upon this twisted
blackbone tree the silk and white
petal of my mother’s youth.
From her ear-rings three diamonds
splash a handful of needles,
and I see my mother run back
from rain to the crying cradles.
(Of Mothers, Among Other Things, A. K. Ramanujan)
One of life’s most affecting sorrows, is witnessing the passage of time etch its indelible mark on our mothers. The once-invincible empress, whose strength and resilience seemed boundless, slowly yields to the ravages of age, her vitality waning like the ebbing tide. This bittersweet reversal of roles is captured with tender nuance in A.K. Ramanujan’s poem, ‘Of Mothers, Among Other Things’, a heartfelt tribute to the enduring power of a mother’s love and fortitude.
During my literary journey, I have taught to the students and also penned odes to the joys of son, daughter, and husband, yet the muse that had nurtured me, my mother, the lady who stood behind me throughout life, remained unsung. I could never get enough words to write about her. Only recently, when Maa faced heart attack, I realized the urgency of paying homage to her indomitable spirit, an inscription of gratitude that I could no longer hold back in heart, and poured in this article, highlighting the selfless love of all mothers on the earth.
Fate’s cruel hand recently dealt me a contradiction- my mother, who had once rebuked me for indulging in the reading and writing too much, citing health concerns, was lying on hospital bed, being the epicenter of my existence. The hours ticked by like falling leaves as I stood vulnerable outside the coronary care unit, my mind with a tumult of emotions, my heart with a heavy burden, my eyes with tears’ tsunami. The familiar comforts of reading and writing, which have always been my solace, had been sidelined, leaving me stuck with one and only, an all-consuming concern for my mother’s well-being.
The ‘bhoolbhulaiya’ of hospital corridors, a sterile and impersonal space, had become like my reluctant home. Every corner, every room, every machine- the Eco lab, ECG, X-ray, sonography lab, and Path Labs were whispering eerie tales, haunting my spirit. But nothing could have prepared me for the anguish of witnessing my mother’s heart beating on the operating room’s screen, standing outside the glass window, her life force pulsating through every artery, a heart-wrenching spectacle that no child should ever have to endure. Time stood still as I stood pierced, a silent witness to the faint dance between life and death, my heart with an unbearable pause.
It’s as if the very fabric of my existence wavered, leaving the whole world as a desolate, hollow shell, watching days and nights, Maa lying in pain and I, a helpless creature. Every fiber, cell, tissue, bone, flesh of my being yearned to surrender the entirety of my existence, to barter the universe itself, if it could assist taking away the suffering of Maa.
Those were the darkest of days, as mother’s fragile form was lying trapped in CCU, her life force flickering like a small diya in the storm. One and a half days in ICU, ticked by with tormenting slowness, followed by five incessant days in the CCU. The medical jargons spun around me like a terrible turmoil- angiography, angioplasty, pericardial effusion, and the specter of leg surgery looming due to clotting. My mother’s body had become a battleground, with pain and trauma wreaking havoc on her pale frame. And I, a helpless sentry, stood awake nights after nights, my heart shattering into a million debris of despair, my soul screaming in silence, my mind having inside storms as I watched the woman who had given me life, struggling to grip to hers, feeling like my nerves were to going to burst out any time.
Mother- Maa is a word that embodies the essence of resilience; symbolizes the unyielding spirit of a survivor. This sacred word encompasses the divine attributes of Shakti, Bhakti, Sneha, Smarpan and Mamta- the ceaseless strength, the unwavering devotion, the tender affection, the selfless surrender, and the nurturing love. Even in CCU, she was bothered about my kids and me whenever was in her senses.
In every culture, in every corner of this world, Maa stands a towering, an unwavering pillar of love, sacrifice, and resilience. An echo of the divine mother resides in the heart of each being, a narrative that transcends boundaries of language and culture, weaving a story as old as time itself.
In Hinduism, the reverence for the mother is etched deep within sacred texts, echoing through centuries, in various forms: Durga, the fierce protector; Saraswati, the embodiment of knowledge; and Lakshmi, the harbinger of prosperity. Each incarnation of Maa signifies a survival instinct woven into the fabric of existence, raising her children while taking on the burdens of the cosmos. The scriptures abound with references to the sacred feminine, from the cosmic energy of Adi Shakti to the nurturing love of Mother Yashoda.
The revered verse, ‘Matru Devo Bhava’ (Mother is Divine), from the Taittiriya Upanishad, encapsulates this sentiment, urging us to honor our mothers as one would honor the divine itself. The Bhagavad Gita, too, sings praises of motherhood when it reflects on the nurturing aspects of creation, reminding us that the world itself derives sustenance from the embrace of the Earth, the ultimate Mother and states, ‘Janani janmabhoom’shcha svargadapi gariyasi’ (Bhagavad Gita, Chapter 9, Verse 26), which translates to “One’s mother and motherland are greater than heaven.’
Maa is more than an entity; she is a force, a cosmic energy. In her embrace, we find solace, resilience, and the power to persevere through life’s storms. As worshipers, we offer her devotion in the form of prayers, for she is the nurturing womb from which we emerge, a survivor who faces the complexities of life with an unwavering heart.
A mother, in Islam, is the first teacher, the first artisan who crafts the heart and spirit of her child. The Hadith further reinforces this sentiment, wherein the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said, ‘Heaven lies under the feet of mothers.’ This notion elevates her position to one of divine proximity, a survivor steering her children through the tumultuous waters of existence.
The Holy Bible celebrates the maternal figure as a cornerstone of family and faith. Mary, the mother of Jesus, embodies the ultimate sacrifice, enduring profound trials while nurturing her child; her very presence symbolizes resilience and hope. In the teachings of each faith, we can find an undeniable reverence for mothers. In their sacrifices, in their burden-bearing, in the quiet storms they withstand, these women remind us that love, in all its forms, is indeed a survival instinct.
In my academic circle, I recall such a remarkable individual, a friend and younger sister in spirit, who is courageously steering the turbulent and heart breaking course of divorce, while shouldering the weight of raising two tender buds as mother. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, she has faced the fiery trials of life, including the scorching flames of an abusive relationship, the icy indifference and sarcasm of relatives, and the daunting challenges of financial and health-related woes. Yet, she stands tall, as a true hero for her kids, a ray of hope and inspiration for them to face the hurdles of life, illuminating the path for all those who cross her journey. Her saga is a distressing reminder that, even in the darkest days of life, the inner light of the human can never be extinguished if the person is a mother.
Maa is indeed a survivor, wherever you go, an indomitable human spirit that endures despite adversity. Whether she is the blood mother who gives us life or the Mother Earth who sustains us, Maa remains an integral part of our existence. As we route through the complexities of life, we all especially Gen Z should learn to honor, respect, and cherish Maa, for she is the embodiment of love, care, and selflessness that makes life worth living.
The way Gen Z live life, their eyes glued to the mesmerizing glow of screens of smartphones, they often forget the selfless soul who has woven the tapestry of their existence. The mother, a guardian angel who has surrendered her dreams, desires, and comforts for the sake of her children, remains an unsung hero in the shadows. Her sacrifices, like autumn leaves, rustle silently in the wind, unnoticed and unappreciated. It is time for the Gen Z to awaken from their digital slumber and behold the beauty of their mother’s presence. They need to put aside the illusory worlds of social media and gaze into the depths of their mother’s eyes, where love, care, and devotion shine like a flare in the night. For in doing so, they will discover the treasure of a lifetime, the unconditional love and support of a mother, who has given her all to ensure their happiness and success. These lines from poem ‘Of Mothers, Among Other Things,’ by A. K. Ramanujan describe a small, everyday action that speaks volumes about the mother’s character and values:
My cold parchment tongue licks bark
in the mouth when I see her four
still sensible fingers slowly flex
to pick a grain of rice from the kitchen floor.
Dr. Shalini Yadav is a Professor, Writer and Columnist from Jaipur, Rajasthan.
