Mother Like None Other… Poem by AtreyaSarma Uppaluri

Mother Like None Other…



She eats things sour
Swallows pills bitter
And goes through the throes
Never minding the hot pain
Lost in sweet dreams
Of a rosy child.

She looks upon the newborn babe
With wonder and welling up love
With an excitement of pretty pride.

Loves the baby
With warmth of the heart
And coolth of the mind.

Treats it
With a velvety,
Butter soft touch;
And raises the child
The extension of her life
With glass like care.

The tiny tot
Now toddles to nursery.
Playfulness
Naughtiness
Prankishness
Unpredictability
Mark its cherubic life.

Mom cossets her
Cuddles her
Smothers her with kisses
Every sprint of the child
Bringing a brighter glint
To mom’s hearty eyes.

She begins to teach her
ABCs and One-two-threes
With ideal patience.
As the child responds
The mother is regaled.

The child’s equation
Isn’t always uniform.
Mother loses patience
That the child isn’t
Connecting to her own
Mature and faster wavelengths.

So she frets, she fumes
She shouts, she screams
She feels helpless
As the child doesn’t appear
To be receptive, responsive
To be alert, sharp
To recall at mom’s will.

She even spanks her
And the child breaks
Into sobs
With her dripping cheeks.

Mom at this moment
Doesn’t brook
Any defence, any praise of the child
From her dad
“You’re pampering
And spoiling her,
Stop it” she glowers.

“What did you do at school today? ”
Mother asks the child
As she picks up and seats her
On the scooter.
“Of course, I played, ”
The child replies and smiles,
As usual.

“What did your teacher do? ”
Elicits the mother
On way back home.
“Mom, Ms Rosy
Put me in the naughty corner
Only me
And for a long time
Though I did no mischief”
Whimpers the child.

Mom called the school:
“… Sneha is very affectionate,
Very sensible, very sensitive,
Much too gregarious,
Never hurting anyone…

“She told me quite a few times
She had been pinched and pushed
By the boys several times
But I never complained,
For things like that
Do happen with children…
If you are harsh on her
It tells on her psychology
At this impressionable age
And she feels discriminated against.

“Please never punish her like this
After all, we put her
In your school
Because of your great claims
Despite the exorbitant fees…
And please note
She is the youngest in the class
Belying her looks, ”
And speaks her mind so,
A psychology grad she is.

The frisky three-year old,
Later on in the evening
Indulges herself
And plays with things and toys.
To the curious dear one
To the egalitarian little one,
Everything about is a toy.

As the dad watches the TV
The child grabs his watch
From the shelf… Oops!
It slips down
From the little hands
And its glass cracks.

“You’ve broken my watch, ”
Howls the father
And gives her a gentle knuckle.
Baffled,
The little one begins to scream…

Rushes on like a wounded tigress
The mother to her child
Surveys her all around for any hurt
Picks her up and kisses off her tears
Dandles and fondles the little darling
All the while glaring and sneering at him.

The sobbing baby lulled into sleep,
She chides the impulsive father:
“You should have put the watch
Out of her reach…
Anyway, we can buy another watch
A child’s life is much too dear and tender
How can she bear your shouts and taunts?
God forbid…, if something happens to her!
We can’t get back her lovely life
And I can’t for a moment live
Without this lovely nestling.”

Mother’ love
Unique
Possessive
Unfathomable
Selfless
Multi-flavoured
Erratic too!
So is mother
Like none other.

[Apr 18,2009: : Hyderabad - 500 056]

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AtreyaSarma Uppaluri

AtreyaSarma Uppaluri

Hyderabad, AP, India
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