To My Mother
On Mothers Day
I thought and thought
What gift I can give, to my late mother
On this auspicious Mother’s Day,
A gift for my Mother,
Who passed away from this world,
Many many years back, on Mother’s day.
She must be living in peace,
While living on earth,
She was my inspiration and my precious teacher.
She charmed everyone, who got a chance
To meet her,
By her simplicity and love and selfless devotion.
Her melodious singing and playing of Violin,
Defused the gifts of poetry and writing in me,
Because of you perhaps, O Mother dear.
She taught me the lessons of Music and Poetry,
Of life and its duties, not by taking my classes ever,
But by teaching me and others, what actually was our real duty,
She silently taught, the lessons of kindness and love,
Of facing the ups and down of life,
Without being sad and disturbed.
She taught me to be firm and sturdy in life,
And to never feel forfeited and disturbed,
Even if, success was no where visible.
How great was your greatness, we could not know it earlier,
You gave your precious years to my motherland, O Mother
Sometimes directly fighting for our freedom,
While in your remaining life, you cared and inspired,
Even my father, to not only sacrifice his entire young age,
For the cause of India’s freedom,
But also to write books and create, poetry likes Patradoot,
Which father wrote in Faizabad jail*,
And dedicated it to you, O Mother dear.
Many decades have passed, when this great book,
In Hindi was written by my father,
Depicting the India, as it was around 1932.
O Mother, to day, on this great Mothers Day,
I am dedicating English version of that great epic to you,
So that the world may come to know,
The real life beauty of this great story*,
And the beauty of this gem of a writing of my father,
Which shines once in a blue moon only,
On the horizon of poetry.
Kanpur India 9th May 10
* Story. Hindi name Patradoot and in English ‘The Messenger’
* Faizabad jail. My father( 1899-1994) late Dr Amarnath Kapoor devoted almost his entire young life 1920-47 for the cause of India’s freedom struggle, as a follower of Gandhi. During his long imprisonment in Faizabad jail, he wrote ‘the Messenger’ as a unique story in poetry in Hindi & secretly sent it to my mother, The Messenger was published and circulated
in Hindi around 1933-34 with the result, the British rulers confiscated my father’s printing
press for ever and its publications and again put him to jail.