Universal Mothers (A Son's Tribute) Poem by Swatimalya Chattopadhyay

Ma, in my childhood
While on return from playground
I used to get worried
And was in a fix
If the time crossed was half past six,
This was the time limit set by you,
My delay would anger my Mom
Was all that I knew.

While on serious search
Before Computer Google,
I could sense my Mom was in struggle
To watch her son whether swayed by Facebook;
I too kept giving a stealthy look,
Ma might think I was on chat,
Devised my plans how to prevent.

Oblivious of your thirst and hunger,
You waited till my return
From various tutions,
Satiated to have lunch and dinner
With your son
Who wouldn't even bother
To wait till you clear
The table left over.

I stayed awake
Till late at night
And was preparing for exams,
You would sacrifice your sleep
Not even watch television
To see your son study
With full concentration
Also remained eager to see
Whether his efforts led to fruition.

Don't know when amidst daily bickers
And off and on banters
Days transformed me into an Engineer,
I could realize
Who was the Prime Mover
To drive me this far
And who was my mentor
To make me grow in my studies
And all extracurricular activities
She was none other than my mother,
It was only my mother.

At thirties
In the dichotomy of Mother and Wife,
I always stood beside my wife
Knowing well if I have to live my life
I have to be in her stride,
Since in the policy of "Take and Give'
If I don't take her care
My wife will deprive me of my share,
But when it comes to my mother
She will always forgive
Whether she gets or I don't give.


It reminds me of the old story
While a young man wanted to marry
His beloved,
The lady put a rider:
'Can you behead your mother
And bring the head? '
The young man gave his consent
And planned to make an attempt.

Overwhelmed with false emotions
He hugged his mother,
Valiantly took out his chopper,
Slashed the head of his mother;
While on job from the trembled hand
Slipped the chopper,
Made blood ooze from the Son's hand
'Oops'- - - - the yell mother couldn't stand
Blood didn't elude the eyes of mother,
The frail voice spoke
' Are you hurt my child? '
These were the last words
Before she died.

With my vision blurred with tears
I reflect after so many years,
This mother is not fictitious
Nor is a poet's imagination,
This mother remains in everyone
Whether Tom, Dick or I be the son
This mother is spread out everywhere,
This mother is Universal,
My Mom too remains there,
Who is my truth eternal.