Mool Raj
Every time I wrote letters to my beloved mother Nant Devi before leaving to Jammu University for pursuing my M.Sc in Environmental Science. These letters that I handed over to Jaswant Kumar R/o Chakka a helper who was working in the kiryana shop of Amin Shah Pul Doda in between the years 1997 to 1999 for your good self still lying in your box. But these letters not read by your good self due to your untimely departure to heavenly abode.
I miss you every moment, Maa. With every breath, I recall you. Every night I go to bed, I cry silently because I still hope to hear your calling my name from another room. I still believe you will enter and say, “Where are you going?” But then silence responds to me. That silence is worse than anything.
Friday, 18 January 1998, 4:30 AM. Dear Maa, it was that morning when you broke me. It was the time my world went still. I remember your hand holding mine, your eyes closing slowly, your breath lightening. You gave me one last look, and I didn’t know how to let go. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. I was weeping within, in quiet, as if my very soul had been broken. Nobody could hear that sort of cry, Maa. Only God knows the way it was like watching you leave.
Since then, I’ve been living, but differently. Everything appears fine on the surface; people speak, life goes on, and time doesn’t stop, but within me, everything stands still in that instant when your fingers escaped my hands. I still have the heat of your hand. I still see your face when I shut my eyes.
You weren’t just my mother, Maa. You were my peace, my best friend, my home. Each day with you felt safe. Each word you uttered had kindness in it. You never spoke loudly; even when you were upset, it was gentle. I remember the day that I played outside without informing you. You waited, apprehensive, and when I returned, you gently tapped me on the hand, not with anger, but love. And then, like nothing happened, you smiled and handed me a hundred rupees, saying, “Go, but don’t leave without telling me again.” That’s who you were: strict for only a moment but gentle forever.
You were like a fairy, Maa. Your eyes were filled with light, your voice was as soft as early prayer, and your face… I still cannot put it into words. Your beauty was from within. When you smiled, everything around you seemed brighter. When you prayed, it seemed even the walls of our home were blessed.
I miss you every moment, Maa. With every breath, I recall you. Every night I go to bed, I cry silently because I still hope to hear your calling my name from another room. I still believe you will enter and say, “Where are you going?” But then silence responds to me. That silence is worse than anything.
You see, everyone keeps telling me to move on: “It’s fate,” “She’s in a better place.” I know they mean it well, but they don’t see. How do I move on from my heart, Maa? How do I move on from the one who brought me to life? You weren’t merely someone I lost; you were everything I ever had. You were the one who prayed for me even before I knew I needed prayers. You were the one who slept less when I was ill, who forgave me even when I didn’t say sorry.
I sit sometimes in your room, just to be near you. Your smell still remains a combination of your fragrance and something which you had alone. I am holding your shawl, and for a moment, I am with you. Then I wake up, and the void comes again.
I remember the way you used to prepare not food, but love. You’d be hours in the kitchen, singing softly, tired at times but never ever complaining. You’d always set aside the best for me, even if you went without. That’s the kind of love only mothers can offer, unspoken sacrifices no one notices.
Maa, recall those nights when we stayed up late, you speaking of life and me feigning ignorance but actually learning from you. You showed me kindness without ever telling me to do it. You showed me patience by just being patient. You taught me that strength does not necessarily show itself in shouting; sometimes it is in holding back, in forgiving, in still loving even when the world is difficult.
I see you in everything nice I do. When I assist someone, I can hear your voice saying, “Always be kind.” When I pray, I recall how you used to stand before the prayer mat, serene and attentive, murmuring duas for all, particularly for me. I know you still pray for me, wherever you may be. Perhaps that is the reason why, despite pain, I still manage to stand.
They say that mothers never really die, that they live on through their children. I think that now. You live on in my words, in my tears, in all the good things I try to do. You live in my heartbeats, Maa. You’re the fire that still burns inside me.
But there are some days that are too heavy. Some nights I collapse, muttering your name repeatedly, hoping somehow you can still hear me. I wish I could say to you how much I miss you, how much I am lost without you. At times, I dream of you, standing there, smiling, saying you are fine. I wake up with tears and peace simultaneously. Maybe that’s your way of coming back to see me.
Maa, you were loving to all – the neighbours, the strangers, even those who hurt you. You never held grudges against anyone. You always used to say, “Forgive, beta; it gives peace.” I try to do that, but it’s difficult. The world is colder now. People pass and come, but nobody provides the kind of love you provided.
Life without you is incomplete. Wherever I am, whoever I meet, there is a portion of me with you, the little boy who ran to your arms after school, who cried only when you were not present, who thought your lap could mend everything.
I struggle to stay strong, Maa. I struggle to smile, to move on, to live the way you would have wanted me to. But sometimes, the pain is just too much. I sob not because you’re no longer here, but because I was blessed to have someone like you and that love was snatched away too early.
I know we will see each other again, Maa. Perhaps not soon, but someday where there are no goodbyes, no suffering, no sorrow. Until that time comes, I will keep you alive in my prayers, my words, and my heart.
You were, and will always remain, my everything, my heart, my home, my reason to be good. I love you beyond time, beyond this world. You’ll never be forgotten, Maa.
I love you forever.
We will meet again in Heavenly Abode, My True Love.
(The author is a freelancer and can be reached at [email protected])
