Sunday, May 08, 2016

My Liar Mom: A Mother's Day Poem.

This is a beautiful poem a man wrote out of love for his mother. His mother had become a widow in Bangladesh at a very early age, and raised her young son all alone, working hard for him, until this son got established and had a huge job in USA.

The poem is being recited by my father. I don't know who is the original author of the poem - if you know please let me know so I can credit the author. The poem is in Bengali, so I am attaching a (rough) translation here. Remember, a lot is lost in the translation.

A long time has gone by, and still for my mom I cry
For my mom used to always vehemently lie.

Lonely we became, with death of my dad
My mom aged faster, with the worries now all on her head.
My mother said, a star in the far away galaxy was my dad
He would come down if I studied and got educated.
I did study, and amongst the stars I searched for my dad,
For me, my mother’s lies started with that.

“Get married again”, friends and relatives advised her
Difficult would be the long life all alone to bear.
They said, “Select a man and get married again, and come to your senses!”
Mom said, “I have no time for such nonsense!”
“Am I alone? Look! My son is with me here,”
That was another lie she could easily utter.

On the sewing machine my mom worked all night, making new clothes in batches,
Struggling hard for my life to be a little bright, yet her own old clothes had multiple patches.
Her eyes were sleepy, she was tired when a needle pricked her hand,
“Mom! Come, leave the work alone and sleep!” Was my demand.
“I am not sleepy,” said my mom, “I don’t need rest.”
That was another untruth to which my mom would attest.

Every day after school, she would pick me up,
My mom would wait for me, standing with no shade, and in the sky the sun high up.
The hot sun and humidity made everyone huff and sag,
Yet every day without fail she used to hand me an ice cream from her bag.
I held it out to my mom, “Here … take a bite,”
To this, she would say, “oh no, it’s all right.”
“You have it all. My throat gets infected if I have something cold,”
For me, that was another lie, she easily told.

In a big city I got a job, quite good
Got married, settled down as life eventually would.
In a posh location I got a house well furnished
With an interior decorator, each room was nicely made.
My mom still lived in my village
All alone in the darkness of load shedding, trying to light up a candle.
As the lights of the city shone and dazzled.
“Oh mom”, I said, “Come! Leave the village and come here to settle.”
Mom said, “It’s so nice and open here.”
“Why should I go to your hot and crowded city?”
“Actually if I stay in a closed room all day I get asthma attacks,”
Once again my mom lied.

After this my status went even higher
Job in World Bank with lots of power
Busy all day, I met people in rows
How is my mom, I had no time to regularly check up on her and know.
A day came when I heard she is sick and bed ridden,
Hit with a sickness that has no cure in Bangladesh.
I flew out to her, it was now a long journey,
I begged and pleaded with her to change her mind.
“Come with me States I beg of you.”
“The best doctors will take care of you.”
“These types of illnesses are no big deal there,”
“In seven days we will cure you and have you back here.”
With a smile on her face uttered my mom,
“I am not supposed to fly don’t you know!”
“Nothing has happened to me, don’t you worry.”

That was the last lie she told me.
A few days later, died this extreme liar.
For my lying mom, till today I cry.

1 comment:

Dixya said...

since i dont understand the language,..i read the translation (thank you for that) and it is indeed deep.sad, and beautiful poem.