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The Valiance of the Mother of a Martyr

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Dr. Radhika J. Sharma

 

 

A visible effect of urban media, a flushed up posts on the Day, celebrating the altruistic love between the daughters, sons and their mothers. Indeed, on Mother’s Day.
A boy with his uniform on, too must have written a post on his timeline with a picture with his mamma, must definitely had written in a similar words that,
“though I am at a point of distance farther from you, though you think I am in a castle of war and death, I want to tell you mamma that I miss you and your blessings are a bonus to my physical strength and my span of life. You are the hope and belief of mine because you are the point of my creation for what I am on the land to fulfill my duty assigned by the Real Creator. I wish you carry on the same strength mamma, which you beard when you brought me into the beautiful world of your lap. I’ll be home soon, I just want to let you know that I love you mamma. And I wish you a Happy Mother’s Day”.
No matter if she’s a literate modern lady or a home-maker , what must have she thought inside her heart when she must have gone through the post, or what must have gone through the heart of his sister when she must have read it to the mother on his behalf. All of a sudden, did she gathered a state of calmness in her mind? Or a moment of proud wrapped with the smile on her face?
Otherwise a nostalgic thought must have crossed her nerves that stance, of the good old days, each time when he must have come home with a bleeding elbow from the cricket field during his teens and how she must have gone mad on him of not being careful, just because it hurted her heart to see his blood, the anger acted a shield of strength on her face.
Again each time when he must have been slapped by his teacher in the school, what would she have done to the teacher, or how would she have reacted on seeing her little son upset. Indeed, a little more strength, she must have carried.
And wonder!! What that same selfless, fierce yet a pious woman must have thought when she had decided to send her boy for service of Folk of her Nation.
It remains an un-descriptive thought for every clueless human, a tough thing to be thought and hardest to believe about the state of mind, of the woman, called as Mother.
For the first time when she must have looked upon him with the uniform on his body and the day she sent off her son to serve.
What must she have said to the boy, when he warmly touched her feet and bid goodbye for the time being, because the borders gave him a call of duty.
Mother!!! If someone would want to talk to you about your cognition when he spoke to you before he finally must have stepped up on the bogie, and when mamma’s boy must have smiled and hugged you tight, with a word to return home soon.
With a vigor, could you have believed on the a day when you, while dining with family instantly came across certain videos on TV where your uniform covered son was being abused, mal-treated by a number of strangers on the street.
It makes sense, that a corner of your heart must have cried and screamed out with an un-seen injury, to which you would have wrapped up with a proud filled girth of your chest.Each day within your morning and evening prayers you would have sought your son’s victorious long life.
But then again another day during same dining moment when news telecasted a fellow boy of your son being buried underneath the snow over the altitudes, your heart again must have thumped loud, asking Mother Earth for why she got rude being another mother ?
The incidence of a broken out gun battle on the nearest area of his posting where you must have heard that a few of his fellow boys being martyred. How have you held yourself until you heard about your son being safe?
When the whole country must have mourned on their martyrdom, what was the thing you held inside, mother?
For her when we talk about, a glimpse of her son smiling makes her day. Or a beautiful talk of her girl makes her feel complete. There is another side of her being firm like a rock when her eyes bleed out of ache, when the same son of her’s returns back home with a wrapped Tricolor around his blood covered body, to see the young boy of her’s inside a coffin. Who could define the state of her heart at that juncture of time, the same fierce and a proud woman when calls for death, so to make it possible to talk to her boy again, just once again.
Undoubtedly the easiest job for anyone is to pay a heed after the later consequences of the war and the martyred boy of the same mother, had it been much proudly given a deserved esteem, admiration and reverence to the one, prior.

To the Woman, selfless, pious, a chosen up creature of His behalf, bringing up humanity, serving humanity, who donates her womb to the service of us all. Regards, Honor and the warmest of the wishes on Mother’s Day.

Dr. Radhika J. Sharma.
(A post graduate in Veterianry Sciences)