It's another sultry May afternoon.The AC in my cabin is cooling me to the fullest. But looking at the blazing sun through the window panes, I see those long sweltering 'load-shedding' afternoons of childhood - How sweat used to drain us dry! How you used to fan me with folded newspapers in your bony arms, and how the jingle of your bangles lulled me to slumber. Maa, I wish you were here. You could have slept here in peace. The sleep that I had stolen from you, I could return to you in joy.
You know Maa, my birthdays are really special these years. She makes it so grand for me. I just love it . But deep inside my heart I silently cry for that bowl of 'paayesh' ('payasam' or porridge) you used to make for me every b'day .Believe me Maa, those pista, cashew, resins,which you could afford ,for only that one day at the most ,in the whole year, were no less than diamonds, rubies, emeralds in those black and white days. I still seek for that fragrance of the “Paayesh” , but it has left me for good
You often used to say, "Babu ! Work hard, a day would come when you will have everything with you”.
My eyes sparkled with that dream.
But then, some voice in me would say with some scary foreboding-
“That day Maa won't be there to witness”. I never realized that the soothsayer in me was none but you in disguise. You pressed your breast hard against the thorns of agony, like the 'NIGHTINGALE', and with your own blood you made my life blossom like the red 'ROSE. But then one day your music stopped forever
"Pronaam Niyo Maa" (Mother,I bow to thee)