Photo Credit : Soumi Haldar

Earlier this week we asked everyone to state a phrase that defined motherhood or their own mother. One of our regular readers and very active contributor, Swapan Haldar told us a single word or a phrase was inadequate to describe feelings for mother. He wrote an anecdote for us instead. An anecdote that is a testimony of a son’s fondness and respect for all that his mother did and meant for him.
I was born in the early 1940’s, in a large middle class family in India. It was a remote village, some sixty kilometers from the main city.
After completing my Post Graduate studies, I joined an American oil company whose office was in the main city. As it was a contract job for one year, I preferred stay at home and attend office by commuting daily by the local trains. I remember my mother waking me up at 5 in the morning so that I could get ready in time to catch the 6:45am train. She cooked fresh food early morning, every day, irrespective of the weather, hot summers, heavy rains or extreme cold winters. I was happy. I completed one year under the happy, caring and affectionate touch of my mother.
My contract job had come to an end and it was the last day at my job. She was away from home due to some family emergency on the last day of my work. I woke up as usual and got ready for the train. But nobody offered me anything. At last my younger sister, a school student then, appeared with a glass of milk. Absence of my mother for a single day caused me great pain in my heart.
Then I left home for a job in a mining company a few thousand kilometers away. I used to visit her at least twice a year.  But after she passed away, I lost my bond with my childhood home. I completely lost my attachment with my roots.
I remember her whenever I am alone. I think of her sacrifices she did to raise the young children under extreme distress. I realize that whatever I am today is due to the blessings of my divine mother.  I owe everything to her. I am so fortunate.
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