Uneven Thoughts

Uneven Thoughts

Welcome, Namaste, Hola, to windows of my life

Hello everyone, when you read a story or a memoir, it is common to compare it with our lives; various phases at different points in its journey. The similarities and contrasts make our life different and meaningful. Friends and family, when you read my snippets, please write your experiences.

I would love to read them and, my stories shall be fulfilled of the deep need of company. Thank you for pausing, taking time, reading and sharing your thoughts. You are a co-traveler...

Monday, November 10, 2014

Mothers in all forms

Women in the form of mothers are at her epitome of power. That, is my belief entirely. No wonder "Shakti" is the worship of the supreme power.  The power of womanhood was being manifested in front of me.  The power she uses to mold the life and lives around her for others. She does not need to be a birthing mother, she is a nurturer and a reformer for many and that makes her a mother in the real sense. Want to share a picture of a mother I met on my last visit home. She was from a lower middle class and a mother of girl. A girl, who survived after losing many children at birth, was with her. She was young and healthy, but her eyes carried the burden of those dead souls she carried in her womb at one time.
My ma had taken us to a place called "Boro Kachari", a Shiv Mandir of sorts in the interiors from where we lived. The Shiv Lingum was placed under a huge tree and surrounded with a circular veranda. There were tiny little notes to God, asking for some kind of boom, and a offering in return. I and my boys were enchanted with this, and we did our little note tying to the rails.  My young boys were very eager to visit this place, because my Ma had told them stories about it.  She had narrated to them about the Shiv over there that grants wishes, if you tie a note to the porch of the temple.  
On arrival, we bought some of the "puja" materials and washed our hands and and feet at the pond.  A winding pathway led us to the little circular porch surround the Shiv Ling. Could instantly hear the soft rustle of paper.  Tiny bits of paper tied with red string hung from every visible railing there were.  Little notes of wishes, prayers, needs, and wants.  Heart strings of whispered prayers were all rustling in the breeze and sending it heavenwards. 
Our puja was short, and then I stood out in the patio, looking and explaining to my older son the meaning of different things depicted over there.  What arrested me to the spot for next half an hour, was a mother who was doing "dondi". She had promised an offering of some number of "dondi" (laying on the floor and moving in circles around the temple area, while making circles with her hand), if her next child was alive. The little girl of hers was about 2 years old. She sat on her mother's back, and her mother rose up, then lay down and swung her arms in a full circle above her head. Then she rose to that point and continued. Her co-sister helped by splashing "ganga jal" around her. The mother was soaking wet, as she had taken a dip in the pond to purify her, just before she began. The mother did not look breathless, neither was she worried who was looking. Her only concentration was to keep the child on her back and do what she had promised to God.
I stood there not sure if this made sense to me. I was questioning the validity of her action. But, she was one woman I could not say was wasting time. She was giving, what she thought she can give for her child. Mothers all around the world have done it, and will do it again in a heartbeat. This I can say for sure. Our own way of making things happen for the people we care about. Happy mothering ladies to each and every one, to all those souls you took care of.



Anumita C. Roy