My Mother

This Mother’s Day, I remember my mother for her continued efforts to balance life despite difficulties, her culinary arts, and her devotion to the Guru Granth Sahib.

My mother had an ability to do the best she could with meager resources. She had always been very resourceful before marriage and post nuptial commitments of life. She was born in Layallpur (now Faisalabad, a city in Pakistan) in a farming family. After the partition in 1947, her parents were allotted around 100 acres of land and she was the most active member of her family to clear the land to use it for agriculture. I don’t exaggerate if I say that farming was her occupation before marriage. After marriage she saw great financial difficulties but she was capable of devising ways and means to handle the adverse situations.

I fondly remember her for her savory meals. I just loved her culinary arts which belonged to her intrinsic nature. A great aroma wafted from the meals she prepared. Her meals always provided the piquant affection to the whole family.

My mother had a great musical voice. She could recite the whole sacred Guru Granth Sahib with her musical voice without looking into the scriptures.

Such was my mother! I stand in awe and veneration of my mother on this Mother’s Day. I am sharing my Poem ‘Mother’ and I dedicate it to her.

Mother

All days and all nights,

Every year and every month,

Every hour and every moment,

We are in the holy shade,

That is our mother’s glade.

Be it your mother or mine,

She is the reason for sunshine,

Grace of her eyes always glows,

It does not matter where we go.

She pronounces prayer to bless,

We get rid of all distress.

Every nerve thrives with joy,

Her tender love brings us poise.

Our woes when we cannot bear,

Her tender heart takes the share.

Tide of love thus we hear,

When we are in the state of tears.

She protects us in all seasons,

Does not ask any reason.

Our journey of benison begins,

When we hear her lullaby sing.

Guru Ki Bani sings my mother,

Splendid glow comes through nectar.

She prays with such a flail,

All the evil our soul refrains.

The midnight hours are passed in vigil,

For a tender care with benevolence filled.

She shows us a new day,

Hides the blackness through her ray,

Wax of mother is the impression of love,

Oxygenated puff for congested lungs.

Let’s pray for all mothers,

Be it yours or mine.

You and I have a common factor,

Without doubt,

It is our mother.

We carry our humane face,

It is because of our mother’s grace.