This is not our father.
She is a goddess called Mother in our Village.
It's not magic or strategy
It is God who heals wounds of people
If you pay some salt to her
That goddess will have mercy.
When we get any wart in our body
Let's take a hair and tie it and we pray
All the warts fall off like flowers,
In the next festival
Let's pray politely by pouring some salt
on the feet of our deity.
If our children get measles
Let's pray for Aatha to save us.
If there is a sixteen-day period from neem bed
Aatha will protect our children.
How the mother is so helpful
for the growth of a child
Our Muthumari Amman is like a companion
She will accompany us in our lives.
If our parched farmland needs rain
When we plant sprouts in the pot
She will make it rain
People and other living things get wet
by the rain of Aatha's grace
I don't know if I worship my mother in my home
We, Tamils, worship our mother in every street
She is the Aatha Mariamman who dwells in our hearts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem