There are times,
More often than before,
When I feel lonely and sad.
When friends, relatives and circumstances,
Are ranged against me,
Like brothers, cousins, and uncles,
In Mahabharta.
There are times,
When tears want to break out,
Like feral animals from wicket cages.
When everything looks alien,
Everything looks inimical.
When words from either side,
Are chucked as pointed stones.
There are times,
When rose petals have blown away,
Leaving thorns – stark and sharp.
Hopes have dried,
Like the autumn tree leaves.
Darkness of my heart,
Engulfs everything in and around.
There are times,
When nothing seems to work.
Even gods and my guardian angel,
Appear to have deserted me.
With my soul bruised,
My limbs fatigued,
My voice hoarse,
My lips parched,
I whisper, barely audible, “Mom, I need you….”
I hear that loving voice,
Clear and kind,
Even in the howling storm.
It is near me,
It is within me;
My mother, my God,
My Creator, my Protector,
My joy, my succour:
“Kaka, I hear you,
Put your head in my lap,
Close your eyes and rest.
All your problems will go;
I’ll make sure of that.”
Suddenly, I am aware,
Of my dormant strength.
My mother is beside me,
My God is within me.
My tears and sadness,
Despair and despondency,
Problems and evils,
Deceit and chicanery,
Are outwitted and weakened.
There is just serenity,
Hope and happiness.
It’s name is Maa.
(The featured image is a copy of the 1905 painting titled: ‘Mother And Child’ by Gustave Klimt and is housed in National Gallery of Contemporary and Modern Art in Rome since 1912.)
