Mother's Day Special !

N.S. Murty (India, 20/05/06)

 

One never knows why certain things impress us most at the first sight.  Normally the mood in which we are has something to do with appreciation. But some change your moods too lifting up your spirits, elevating you from the depths of despair infusing confidence by their sheer sublimity of content. I had one experience today and I would love to share with you all. I was reading The Hindu supplement (13-5-06) and an article on Mother’s day caught my attention, rather, the pic attached to it.  There was a little girl piggy- backing a modern mom in trousers. The tongue popping through her lips to the right corner with a stamp of bewilderment on what she was watching ahead...was something unforgettable for life.  It was such a lovely photograph my heart went for the mom who was certainly a working woman, braving the world and taking the child, perhaps, for an evening out. The focusing eyes of the mom and the innocence in the face of the child are hallmarks of excellent photography and my eyes were riveted to the photograph. I sincerely pay my respects to all moms…no matter where they are…for the greatest blessing of being moms and love to dedicate this translation (Telugu Original by Sri K. Siva Reddy) as mark of my respect to them all.

 

 

Mother

 

 

What do I know about being a mother, after all!

I can never be a mother myself!

I never knew what it’s like being fertile

Or how to glean the essence

From all soils and infuse life into it

 

I never knew how to collect imaginings from

All directions and planetary systems,

From clusters of starry skies,

From endless oceanic expanses, from whiffs of air,

From leaves, flowers, tufts of grass,

From surging waters within and without, from deers, peacocks,

And birds that suddenly swoop and surface over waters

To catch sun between their beaks

And give to a being

 

I never knew how to catch the purple reflections

Of ‘light of life’ beaming from every twig

And grace it to life

 

I never knew to separate sleep from night, wakefulness from day,

Hunger from the rosy mouths of birdlings in the nest

And give to the life…wobbling in the womb

 

I never knew to sit, as if sitting for ages,

And look searchingly to all nooks of the universe

To pick up something beyond my imagination and reach

And present it to a child.

 

I never knew to deftly pick up the solitude of isles

Beauty from the bodies, gleam of the green seminal beds,

And the skill of small birds that walk on waters with ease

And give them to a dreaming boy

 

And unlike the lady in the Neruda’s poem

Who stood stoically alone amidst ambient devastation,

I don’t know how to wait …and wait …and wait

To stand and stand and stand, and give a measure to the child

To measure the lengths of waiting looks.

What do I know about being a mother, after all!

I can not be a mother myself.

 

But, if I can’t be a mother even when I hold a pen,

How can these letters come to life?

Come of age? And fledge to fly?

                               

 

My Heartiest Greetings to all mothers. Long Live MOTHERHOOD !!!