Sanctity Of My Mother Poem by DILIPBHASKER MATHRA

During the holidays when my mother
Went shopping to the market
I often followed her carrying a basket
Or clutching close her safe hand behind.
While in our walk I chattered to her in eloquence
About my latest heroic expositions
And mischievous adventures I did everyday
Back from the school on the way.

My mother listened to me with a kind tune
Of laugh in her face and favourable tap
On the shoulder by her tender hand to balance.
Sometimes she pulled me close to her chin
To avoid the motor cars from colliding
Over my enticing and enthusiastic confabulation.

I always looked on her as a patient listener
To all my unlimited talks of own legend.
She never expressed displeasure or dislike
On my unconvincing exaggerations to devalue,
As if she might have thought not to interrupt
My spirit raising reasons and interrogation.
But always wished she to hear cheer from my heart
Or behold even the least pleasure of hue
On my countenance to lighten her mind with humble
Minute feeling of gaiety to disburden disharmony.
“Real happiness is the gentleness” often quoth she.

Thus my mother never looked worried and tired
Nor did hide her sweet smile away in tirade.
Dauntlessly she faced poverty face to face
Like a soldier meets his formidable war foe
And ever not set her children starve and strive
But obviated like a savior all odds and struggles.

That time had ever stroden away in years torrent
Now my mother is aged and tired
But for me this deep and troubled life parted
Me away from her, rather mercilessly.
As the course of my fate has bound me merely
By frequent assertation of gain and loss of the present,
I often feel I am far from her presence.
When I felt that fact, my mind would perturb
And fill with dismal memory about the past
Gone by, and the things that had been.