Who but me can feel,

What I feel…

As I unlock my heart –

Needing your nearness.

Who but me can realize,

How little emotion is left in me…

Though I am a mother!

Considering what you are imagining

Of me –

I will repeat again –

I am a mother.

But, what do I do with this title?

This empty tag of a phrase staring at me,

Simply torching my soul.

I go inside myself – like you go

Inside a mosque, or a church,

Or a temple –

To find some answers.

Today, I am afraid and relieved –

To share my dread with you.

Oh! I have watched ‘them’ –

My brood wrenching my core!

Alike me…

I know the position of many mothers –

Dragged into endless gossip and scandals.

Are you surprised at my words?

Alike me…

I’ve sometimes felt their hearts cooking

On a kerosene stove.

Or, on some days –

The situation of these mothers hauls them

To the most cruel elements of isolation.

Oftentimes, they feel like, lepers.

Their feelings are reminders of leathery stumps –

All numb and artless and hideous –

Showing shameful cuts and septic wounds.

Do I know the feeling?

I know the feeling!

That formless chaos of humiliation,

Brought upon the reputation of –

Rejected and dejected  mothers.

My conscience compels me to weep

In pain –

For the term: Mother! Mother!

What do you think are the lessons learnt by –

A grieving mother?

A disappointed mother?

A perceptive mother?

No matter what –

A mother must always evolve!

She is Maa, Mai, Madre –

The symbol of love and steadfastness –

Determined to guide her progeny.

She is well-regarded in holy scriptures.

Don’t forbid me to tell you all –

The universe was created by Him –

Who sourced the light of life:

Out of a mother’s womb!

Considering what you are imagining of me,

I will repeat again and again –

Though – my heart is cooking on a kerosene stove!

Though – my own sadness drags me to utter despair!

I will try rising from the abyss –  once more!

Climbing high to get by hurdles.

You know why?

I am Maa, Mai, Madre.