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Rudyard Kipling says, “God could not be everywhere, and therefore he made mothers.” Such words of veneration for mothers are certainly soul uplifting and encapsulate the immense vastness and immeasurable depth of the concept and position of a mother in the minds of all and sundry coming from all corners of the universe. No matter how old, experienced, mature and brave one is, the first thought, word and image that comes to one’s mind in times of crisis will surely be “mother”. The Almighty orders us to take the best care of our parents and especially mothers in these words:
“And, in fact, I myself have advised that person to respect his parental rights. His mother endured painful moments and ill health to keep him in her womb, then, it took two years for him to be dependent on the mother’s sustenance. That is why I advised him to be grateful to me and grateful to his parents” (Surah-e-Luqman-Ayah 14).
“Mother: A Manifestation of Divinity” was the title of my first essay on Mother’s Day, which I wrote for a leading English daily in 2007. Since then, I have contributed to several newspapers, magazines and newspapers. In this regard, and have tried our level best to present something concrete and portray something reasonably or at least, satisfactorily portray the true image of a mother. To be honest, after every attempt, and after every passing year, I kept feeling that my writing lacked any depth, quality and above all, knowledge and understanding of the real personality of a mother. With each passing day of my life, and especially after being a parent of two kids, I keep finding new dimensions and revelations about the condition of motherhood and its unusual feeling and awe. If you take a cursory look at the history of mankind and the contemporary society around you, you would be hard pressed to acknowledge how a simple, fickle, pampered and self-centred girl grew into an extraordinary mature, Brave, tolerant, sacrificial, visionary and above all, a judicious mother in just a few short months. It is a miracle. Isn’t it?
We, Orientals, do not wait for any special day throughout the year to greet or serve our mothers, but our typical morning begins with going to their room and greeting them. We bid him goodbye and request him to pray at dawn, before leaving for work and business, and meet him first thing in the morning after coming home from the place of job. In Islam the importance of caring and kindness to one’s mother is declared more than Jihad as stated in the Hadith: A man came to the Messenger of Allah (peace be upon him) and said: “O Messenger of Allah! I want to go out and fight (in Jihad) and I have come to seek your guidance. You (PBUH) said: “Is that your mother?” He said yes.” The Prophet (PBUH) said: “Then be with him, for there is Paradise under his feet.” (Sunan Nisai)
It is a divine wonder that the syllables and words used to address and summon this unique human relation follow worldwide uniformity. Adjectives such as ‘Maa’, ‘Mom’, ‘Mother’, ‘Mummy’, ‘Ammi’, ‘Umm’ Amman, and ‘Mata’ are from English, Urdu, Arabic, Persian and Hindi socio-linguistic backgrounds, and reflect A very soul-elevating universality among them regarding human existence and the creation of man. The mother is man’s closest and earliest attachment and the first sound—the sound of “m”—a child makes is, naturally, attributed to his mother.
There are innumerable and unfathomable sacred commandments, epigrams, proverbs, anecdotes, literary works, poetical compositions and proverbs about the sacred honor of mothers, and no one can dare to go through such a profound treasure, let me with my enthusiasm And it would be nice to describe the sentimental feelings attached to the hugely popular and acclaimed Punjabi poem “Ambari” (Mother) by globally acclaimed poet, writer and teacher Anwar Masood. Whenever I heard it in the poet’s own shaky voice, on a TV show or video clip, I couldn’t hold back my tears, and so did almost everyone who experienced it.
Throwing light on the background of this real incident, Mr. Masood explains, “At that time, I was serving as a school teacher in a town called Kunjah in Gujarat (Punjab) district. One fine morning, one of my students named Basheer came very late and I was angry and was about to punish him when he said: ‘Master, first listen to me why I am late?’ Then he continued, ‘Sir, Akram (another student of mine) crossed all limits today, and beat his mother so much that when she came to our house, she was bleeding and her face was swollen. Instead of complaining, she brought his lunch with her and asked me to hand it over to him in class because he ran home in a rage without eating or drinking anything. His mother was very worried about her son being hungry and she was constantly insisting on me to go as soon as possible as her son must be dying of hunger.’ After this incident I could not sleep for two nights, I tried to write this incident in a poem, but failed in my first attempt. As there was a lot of pain in that affair and an immense level of mamta (obsession of motherhood) was involved, I cannot find any words to describe these feelings. But I didn’t give up. It took me ten years to finally translate this heart-wrenching incident into a poem. The English version of the poem quoted below will truly enlighten your mind with the infinite horizon of mother’s passion for sacrifice, selflessness and devotion to her cause.