An ode to the essence of motherhood: Maa is a survivor

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

- DR. SHALINI YADAV

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 a 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 my 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 a 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.