Oh, Mom Please Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

I was so much attached to my mother
She was kind and no one can be like her
All mothers may be same as to be called
I miss her all the time when recalled

What to speak and what to miss
She will touch the hand and kiss
She will hold the body and embrace
I could see tears on her face

That she will feel enough of joy when we are near
Our safety was her concern and she had unknown fear
She would not tell it in open but disclose sometimes
I used to stare at her in disbelief and see wet eye with tears

I have seen her very closely and observed some good aspects
I have realized how mothers have been always commanding and had great respect
She would not let things pass easily until we told the truth
She would not forces on us for asking any proof

I may sit in her lap and find whole world
She was mild but aggressive and cold
She would blow wild in no time
And come down too any time

I would gaze her in eyes and it will comfort
Being child I had association and good rapport
She would move her fingers in my hair
I would feel gentle breeze from the air

Mom, tell me how you brought me in this world?
How were dad and you tied in not and got in fold?
She would smiling say nothing and hide the face
I would again stare at her face and wait for reply in case

Mom was happy all the time in our company
Our family comprised of not so many
We were few in numbers and enjoyed too much
But she was quite different as such

She would call all of us to sit before her
She will instill confidence and advise us not to bother
“So long she is there” we need not feel insecure
She would say often to make us very sure

I would touch her nerve to no more
I will try to know and explore
About our ancestors and grandmother
She would feel bitterness at reference of others

“I was not preferred only for marriage”
Your dad was black and I had to manage
Grandma was too reserve to accept the fact
She thought We had committed a sinful act

She did not bless us till the last
She remained with her views very steadfast
She was obsessed with creed, color and cast
She saw so much hatred in contrast

I thought for a while and left her alone
It devastated me as if hit by cyclone
Some of the silly things shatter our life
Mother had tolerated enough as wife