On Mother’s Day

It’s strange how in 25 years my mother has gradually evolved from being a guardian to a friend. It was only yesterday when she used to scold me for fighting with my brother and today i share all my secrets with her (well, not all, but yes my mother has a fair idea of who I have become.

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There’s so much I have to thank for to my mother. Every time I visit home (it’ s such an irony that a person “visits” home) I decide I will tell her, how much she means to me and yet I am never able to speak what’s on my mind. All I do is sit with her in silence or talk about trivial things and yet I return back to my busy life richer than before.

My mother has given me love, that I am sure every loved child would know, and yet I feel it’s one of a kind, different and that no mother could ever love her child as much as my mother loves me. When I look at her, I see this beautiful woman whose loving and compassionate nature glows on her worn and faded face.

As a child I was a cry baby. I would always cry and try to seek attention whenever I fought with my brother and then get beaten by mom. Back then I thought, she would beat me because she favored my brother. But now when I can understand her a bit ( I say a bit, because there’s still much i don’t know) I realize she would beat me because she didn’t want me to become a damsel in distress, someone who could not defend herself.

My mother is a strong woman. I know she is alone without me, but I seldom hear her complain that why I choose to live away from home. She is the one who in her own little ways has taught me to be strong, and face the world with a smiling face. I have learned to be positive even in darkest times from her. She has been someone who always old me to be strong and believe that bad times end too.

She is also the one from whom I have got my love for old Bollywood songs and reading. Had it not been for her, I would not have been this crazy book hoarder I am now. She is the one who constantly encourages me to write, and has helped me appreciate literature in a unique way. So when everyone else wonders about the politics and society behind a story, I think about the struggles and feelings of a character. She taught me to be strong and sentimental both at the same time. From her I have learnt to be compassionate and kind. Though I can never be as forgiving and kind as her, but to be fair I try.

I can go on and on about her, but even a million words are not enough to express the amazing woman she is. People often say a daughter is a reflection of her mother, but I can never be half as amazing as her. Love you Maa!   A Poem for my Mother

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