All Are My Sons Poem by V P Mahur

The blazing hot sun sending rains
Of fire, ready to turn the heart of
The earth into a burning cinder
None was visible upto far
Except a very old woman
With lean body and shivering hands
In the shade of a tree
With an earthen pitcher full of water
Waiting for the passers by
Derived by itching thirst
And serving them with the life giving
Cold water
A few passed through that way
But in that wait she felt gay
Suddenly she saw at some length
A young man approaching

Startled she
As if awakened from the sleep
Quickly hid her wrinkled face
With her old saree’s veil
The young man stopped there
She with her hidden face
Quenched his thirst
He felt enrich his soul
With deep satisfaction and obligation
Wanted to say some words of thanks
But her words could not come out
Started to step ahead
But a hot dusty gust of wind
Removed away the veil of the old woman

‘O My God! ’ Cried the young man
‘There is no place I did not search for you, My Mother
Why, Why, You abandoned us
From your loving nectar
Please come with me
We all miss your affectionate glee’

The mother replied in a stable tone
‘When I was with you, nobody cared me, none’
‘But here I have come to know
That the whole world is my son
You may miss your mother
But I have plenty of sons’
And saying so, she again hid her face