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A mother's love for her child is the purest emotion to ever exist. It is unconditional and beyond the confines of logic. Its the kind of love that moves mountains and parts the sea into two. And what better way to express this limitless and divine love than through the passionate and sensitive medium of poetry? Today, on Mother's Day, we have hand-picked five poems by Indian poets, exploring the notion of motherhood through diverse expressions:
I. Cradle Song by Sarojini Naidu
Sarojini Naidu, famously known as the Nightingale of India, was an eminent freedom fighter and poet. This poem composed by her is a gentle lullaby that is sung by a mother to send her child to sleep. She uses several beautiful imageries to help the child visualize them and ultimately lull him to the tranquil world of dreams.
From groves of spice,
O'er fields of rice,
Athwart the lotus - stream,
I bring for you,
A glint with dew
A little lovely dream.
Sweet, shut your eyes,
The wild fire - flies
Dance through the fairy neem;
From the poppy - bole
For you I stole
A little lovely dream.
Dear eyes, good - night,
In golden light
The stars around you gleam;
On you I press
With soft caress
A little lovely dream.
II. My Mother at Sixty-Six by Kamala Das
Kamala Das's poems are known for their originality, versatility and the indigenous flavour of the soil. She is a sensitive writer who captures the complex subtleties of human relationships in lyrical idiom. This poem is a wonderful example of her style. In this poem, Das is at the airport, on the verge of separation from her beloved aging mother, not knowing if she'll meet her again.
Driving from my parent’s
home to Cochin last Friday
morning, I saw my mother,
beside me,
doze, open mouthed, her face
ashen like that
of a corpse and realised with pain
that she was as old as she
looked but soon
put that thought away, and
looked out at Young
Trees sprinting, the merry children spilling
out of their homes, but after the airport’s
security check, standing a few yards
away, I looked again at her, wan, pale
as a late winter’s moon and felt that old
familiar ache, my childhood’s fear,
but all I said was, see you soon, Amma,
all I did was smile and smile and
smile……
III. Catholic Mother by Gieve Patel
In this poem, Mumbai's beloved poet Gieve Patel captures a primal situation of helplessness that a mother undergoes when her child is ill. A mother would fight the world for her child but when it comes to illnesses, it is beyond her control. This poem artfully captures a mother's heart-wrenching feeling in a hospital setting.
She’s the youngest of three,' you said,
She's always been so: sickly',
And you smiled; the child
Responded but turned shyly away.
We were all three
Barely perturbed.
And so you were trustful,
Open, not alien to objects,
Touching cups, bottles,
Her hair,
Shared by the sunlight
That was breaking over the weeds,
And peaceful
That your child was breathing in
The quiet afternoon dazzle.
But then when it struck,
When her eyes began
To paper, and drugs
Were ineffective,
The room recoiled
And I saw you become
Private, before relations
Could come
To join into your pain.
I can see that your people
Have more right to you now than I,
Aunts and uncles will be closer,
But before I let you leave, pious woman,
Your weeping soft,
Unrebellious,
From what perverseness
Do I appose for you
Your simple original trust
Before the present horror?
IV. 29 April 1989 by Sujata Bhatt
Raising a child requires tremendous labor on the mother's part leaving little to no leisure time to unwind by herself. In this poem, eminent Indian poet Sujata Bhatt explores a particular rainy day when she gets some rare alone time after her three-month-old baby falls asleep. The poet’s thoughts and actions are conveyed through simple and lucid language, creating a vivid sensory experience.
She’s three-months-old now,
asleep at last for the afternoon.
I’ve got some time to myself again
but I don’t know what to do.
Outside everything is greyish green and soggy
with endless Bremen-Spring drizzle.
I make a large pot of Assam tea
and search through the books
in my room, shift through my papers.
I’m not looking for anything, really,
just touching my favourite books.
I don’t even know what I’m thinking,
but there’s a rich round fullness
in the air
like living inside Beethoven’s piano
on a day when he was
particularly energetic.
V. I Cannot Remember My Mother by Rabindranath Tagore
Not everyone is blessed enough to have enjoyed the loving embrace of a mother. Rabindranath Tagore, one of the world's greatest poets, lost his mother before he was three. This poem invokes three simple and elegant images of sensation, sight and sound as the poet reminiscences about his mother.
I cannot remember my mother
only sometimes in the midst of my play
a tune seems to hover over my playthings,
the tune of some song that she used to
hum while rocking my cradle.
I cannot remember my mother
but when in the early autumn morning
the smell of the shiuli flowers floats in the air
the scent of the morning service in the temple
comes to me as the scent of my mother.
I cannot remember my mother
only when from my bedroom window I send
my eyes into the blue of the distant sky,
I feel that the stillness of
my mother's gaze on my face
has spread all over the sky.
