When you are inspired by some great purpose,
some extraordinary project,
all your thoughts break their bands,
your mind transcends limitations,
your consciousness expands in every direction,
and you yourself find in a new great and wonderful world.
dominant forces, faculties and talents become alive and
you discover yourself to be
a greater person far more than you ever dreamed
Mother! You were not
What you seemed!
Crying for the poor
Pleading with Krishna,
Searching for the truth;
With selfless souls
Very rare to find
And helpless aged
Awaiting their death
Progenies and kin
Praying for the exit-
of parents and elders
Liabilities of constricted life
Tears rolling down
“Why is this drama? “
Tell my Lord, is it your leela? ”
Priest of the church
Transferred from Idamannel,
Called for thee my Mother
To convey his blessing
To the budding saint Sudamani!
On seeing you my mother
The priest shed tears of piety,
Bidding his last good bye
Could perceive thy greatness,
His declaration to Sateesh
Thy younger brother, the companion
“ Sudamani will become great! ”
A prophecy full of truth
What else it could be?
Tailoring class and sewing sessions
Posing a threat to penance so divine
Mother, you gave up the class!
All your requests
For a machine to this master
Falling on deaf years,
You made the vow,
Not to ask, but take when He gives!
Yes, indeed He gave,
Years after through Peter
When ye started giving
Blessings and sermons!
Being ignored and insulted quite often,
By parents and siblings, friends and relatives
Thy black colour skin, a God given gift
Playing the havoc rudely on my mother,
Insufficient dress, and never shown care,
Reducing you to a status of lesser than a servant;
A perchance gift of a chequered blouse
Made you happy, Mother you wore it with glee
Oh! That joy was short lived and a cruel joke,
Thy elder brother ordering the removal of the same
Not only killed the gaiety and merriment
But also torched the blouse with the howling,
“Don’t dare to attract with glaring blouses ever! ”
Not those evils did get over for my mother,
Damayanthi also abused for wearing yellow jacket!
The Mother who made the world full of colours
Never could enjoy a bit of Her great creation!
This made you declare the bitter wish
-to wear the worn out and discarded rags
Thus reducing the burden to parents and siblings
Of purchasing a new dress for the master tailor of the Universe!
Vandhaaru jana vatsalaa…Lalitha Sahasranamam 349
Meaning: the one who loves those who pray and submit unto her; this Love is that of a mother!
Those children need not fear anything
5 7 2010
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.