The other day, a newspaper carried a report on the passing away of an old woman. What was special therein, you may wonder. She was found dead in her house swarmed by ants that had eaten her to death. The ill-fated mother was survived by two sons who had put her up there and never reappeared.
My father had predeceased my mother. I was my mother’s pet till the end hugged her at 88. She loved and caressed me more than my siblings, thanks to my being the last of her 12 children. During her last days, she was with me granting me a unique status—in the midst of my kith and kin, I was looking after my old mother. That too, when I, along with my wife and five children, was struggling hard to make both ends meet.
Under the sun, nothing is as unbearable as the death of one’s parents, in particular, the mother. It is still vivid in my mind. It came during the gruesome evening of a day in 1995. She felt uneasy, coupled with breathing trouble. The doctor visited within half an hour of call. Reading my mother’s pulse, he said, “Sorry, pulse is very weak, no hope.” All the same, unable to bear our pressure, he administered an injection (relieving us of mental pain and leaving some false hope with us?) and left.
My better half (fit to be called so as she cared for my mom so much) and one of my sisters were beside me. With her head on my lap, my mother was looking at us constantly; her look was getting weak over minutes, with slow and slight movements. I was suppressing my tears. It happened then. A few drops of tears ran down from her eyes which, though open, turned still; no movements, a lifeless look sans a target. Panicking, I called, nay, cried, “Amma, amma”. No reaction nor response. Yes, breath had bidden adieu to her.
Nothing can be as pure as realising and discharging one’s filial duties. Fulfilment yields the greatest pleasure; dereliction leads to the severest remorse and guilty conscience. The most precious asset in one’s life is our parents, that too when they become old. The immense ecstasy and atma thrupthe one enjoys at the moments of love, affection and attachment coming from the owner of the womb where they were safe and carefree for 10 months are beyond explanation; they should be felt to be enjoyed.
She vanished from our midst but only after having gifted me the golden opportunity of dutifully taking care of and looking after her during her last days. Dear mother, for your glorious gesture, I revere you forever!
Email: esrlingam@gmail.com