I was fed before I knew I was hungry
My hand in her hand was the perfect sanctuary
As my age advanced
My independence grew
She was around, she did not step in
But she knew.
In intelligence, I was an Einstein
In fitness, a Bolt
In financial acumen, a Buffett
In strength, an elephant
In fairness, Dharma incarnate
My humor was second to none
My maturity, was the reference to measure others’
All the mothers are of same kind
Proof that love is blind.
Now that she’s gone
My cover is blown.
The calls were simple and caring
But also routine and boring
How are you?
What did you eat?
What will you eat?
Her day revolved around such calls
The answers were mechanical
I lied when I did not have lunch
Was much simpler than explain much.
The number is still there
But the calls stopped.
Now I realize she did not see the world through me
I was her world!
A mother is such an enigma
Love is her only dogma.
She can endure her pain
Not when the pain is mine
She may not be perfect
But her only instinct is to protect
Home is her world
Concern is her word
She will ignore her health
Won’t care for any wealth
Her love is abundant
Whether you are near or distant
Faced with her easy demeanor
An atheist becomes a believer
And stays one forever.
A believer, of not any falsehood
But the beautiful motherhood.
Amma is such a versatile word
I utter it often
A long drawn AmmmMMMAA when I rest
A plaintive AmmmmmmMAAAAAAAAA when I am in pain
A simple AmmMA when something is finished
An affectionate mmaa when I called her
The utterances will continue, but for the last
For she is now past.
