To my mother

TO MY MOTHER


The silken bond that intact and binds
The eternal touch that forever finds.
Through the direst darkness and the kin,
Beloved mother you are mine.

The identity, the subsistence to which I belong
The renaissance of my every furlong,
Of disparity you showed no sign
Beloved mother you are mine.

The labors you have endured to mould me,
From a wet sloth clay, to an able bodied effigy,
For making me of the most noble figurine
Beloved mother you are mine.

The gems of your eyes, for that profound dexterity,
The melody and harmony in your personality,
For instilling in me a fervent hope and pine,
Beloved mother you are mine.

For the world’s happiness at your feet,
For the tinkles of mirth you may for ever meet,
For gaiety to replace your every whine,
Beloved mother you are mine.
(Hina Zahid)

The word mother is not deficient of any explanation or of any elaboration, a simple word that is a world in itself. The sound of which fills one with emotions and sentiments. Such is the bondage, the essence of the relation that nature has so lovingly created. Since the time we were born to date, there has always been a motive, a driving force that has propelled us forward and that is our “mother”. The most sanctified of all relations on earth, the relation of the mother and the child falls short of language and expressions, the depth of it so intense that man might just feel himself drowned in it.

My first memories of my mother are a clear short stature persona, an individual who taught me “everything”, who walked with me, who grew with me, who aided me, who supported me. In short I have seen my mother metamorphose into almost everything from a teacher to a guide, from a nurse to a friend. I cannot forget her sitting with me the whole night through, tending me like a nurse and praying for me when I was sick. I grew up with the realization of security that she was there, with me, at every step I take. As a child when I fell I saw the pain that lived in her eyes on seeing my fall but at the same time the strong array of valor asking me to act like a warrior and get on my feet again. Time and again she filled in me her little “pieces of mind” to boost me and my inhibitions.
With every move I took I turned around to see her behind me, an effigy of hope and guts, encouraging me to move ahead, face situations challengingly. I saw her eyes glee with merriment at the sight of seeing me succeed. I remember how when time had demanded she had been a stern onlooker, keeping track of my follies and wits, how when desired she had been a strict monitor and sometimes my friend who explained me how matters are to be dealt with. I heard silent murmurs that only asked my well being, the dainty hands that rose in hope of my achievement. Seeing me grow day by day little did I realize then as I know, the fear the anxiousness as to how I would adjust in my new home, the worry if I would be granted a worthy family, the concern if her prayers and my fate would prove to my favor. Even after my marriage I saw questionable eyes always searching mine for answers. Every now and then her inquisitive sight searching in my smiles traces of happiness and eventually giving her heart the relief that her prayers, her strives, her wishes of seeing her daughter forever happy have not turned futile. I have seen her big brown eyes tinkle with tears of happiness at every laughter of mine. How the hands that once nurtured me had always longed to caress my children, shower them with the same love and care and see them being instilled with the same virtues that had once been laced in my own personality by my mentor.

A mother sacrifices her youth, her energies and uses all incentives to make us what we are today. It is because of her endeavor that we make accomplishments in life. She is the silent motivation that moves with us no matter she lives or not. Honestly speaking we pay her not even the quarter of what she instills into us. We at times neglect the paradise under her feet that awaits worthy children who serve their parents. We fail to realize that we owe much more than just words to this creation of God. This mother’s day let us all resolve that it is not only one day that we will henceforth celebrate in gratitude of our mothers, but every day of the year, and every minute of her life…not only tell her…but also make her realize that she is the best, the ether of our existence, the soul to whose subsistence we belong. This one is not a tribute to my mother only who labored day and night for raising me, for making me liable and strong to face the world, for teaching me the principles of life, for giving me an identity that I proudly clutch on to, for giving me such an upbringing that people praise her for and salute her efforts in her absence, this one is for all those mothers of the world who despite the passage of time even today live in the hearts of their children… the memories of a mother are never ever lost from one’s mind, never as long as one lives.

Despite changing notions, even today the children of the world have one cry: “Beloved mother you are mine!”