"Mother"s Day"....



"Mother"s Day"....

(Reproduced below, is a brilliant article, which will stirr your soul, wrench you from within...as it did to me....)

He was pruning the plants, sitting in the posh arbour of an international school - the heat & dust didn't seem to affect him.
"Ganga Das, Principal Ma'am wants to see you right now". The last two words of the peon, had lots of emphasis on them, as if trying to make it sound like an urgency. He quickly got up, washed & wiped his hands & headed towards the Principal's office. The walk from the garden to the office seemed never ending; his heart was almost jumping out of his chest; he was trying all the permutations & combinations, figuring out as to what had gone wrong, that the Principal wanted to see him urgently. He was a sincere worker; had never shirked from his duties... *Knock knock*..."Madam, you called for me?" "Come inside," an authoritative voice laced with crispness, made him further nervous.
Salt & pepper hair, tied neatly into a french knot, a designer sari - sober & very classic - glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. She pointed out towards a paper kept on the table. "Read this". Bu..but....but Ma'am, I am an illiterate person, I cannot read English. Ma'am please forgive me if I have done anything wrong. Give me another chance. I am forever indebted to you for allowing my daughter to study in this school, free of cost. I could have never ever dreamt of such a life for my child" & saying this, he broke down, almost trembling.
"Hold on, you assume a lot. We allowed your daughter, because she is very bright & you have been our sincere worker. Let me call a teacher in, she will read it out & translate it to you. This is written by your daughter & I want you to read it".
Soon enough, a teacher was called & she started reading it; translating each line in Hindi. It read, "Today we were asked to write about 'Mother's Day'. I belong to a village in Bihar, a village, where medicine & education, still seem like a far fetched dream. Many women die every now & then, while giving birth. My mother was one of them too; she could not even hold me in her arms. My father was the first person to hold me, or perhaps the only person. Every one was sad, since I was a girl & I had "eaten up" my own mother. My Dad was instantly asked to remarry but he refused. My grandparents forced him by giving all logical, illogical & emotional reasons, but he didn't budge. My grand parents wanted a grandson; they threatened him to remarry, else he would be disowned. My father did not think twice; he left everything, his acres of land, a good living, comfortable house, cattle & everything that accounts for a good lifestyle in a village. He came to this city with absolutely nothing, but me in his arms. Life was tough, he worked hard, day & night; raised me with tender love & utmost care. Now I understand, why he suddenly developed a dislike for things that I would love to eat, but there was only one left in the platter. He would say that he hated eating it & I should finish it, considering that he did not like it, but as I grew older, I realised the reason & what sacrifice is all about. He gave me the best possible comforts beyond his capacity. This school gave him shelter, respect & the biggest gift - an admission to his daughter. If love & care defines a mother, then my father fits in there. If compassion defines a mother, my father fits into that category too. If sacrifice defines a mother, my father dominates that category as well. So, in nut shell, if a mother is made of love, care sacrifice & compassion, THEN, MY FATHER IS THE BEST MOTHER ON EARTH.F
On 'Mother's Day', I would like to wish my father for being the best parent on earth. I salute him & say with pride, that the hardworking gardener working in this school, is my father. I know I will fail this test after my teacher reads this, but this would be a very small price one would pay, towards an ode to the selfless love of my father.
Thanks".
This was a silence in the room - one could only hear the soft sobbing of Ganga Das - the harsh sun could not wet his clothes with sweat, but the soft words of his daughter, had soaked his chest with tears; he stood there with his hands folded. He took the paper from the teacher's hands, held it close to his heart & broke down. The Principal got up, offered him a chair, a glass of water & said something - strangely, the crispness of her voice was taken over by warmth & sweetness. "Ganga Das, your daughter has been given 10/10 marks for this essay. This is the best essay ever written about 'Mother's Day', in the history of this school. We are having a 'Mother's Day' gala event, the day after tomorrow & the school authorities have decided to invite you as the Chief Guest for the event. This is to honour all the love & sacrifice a man can do to raise his child, to show that you do not have to be a woman to be the perfect parent & most importantly, this is to reinforce/appreciate/acknowledge, the strong belief of your daughter in you, to make her feel proud; to make the entire school feel proud, that we have the best parent on earth as stated by your daughter. You are a true gardener, who is not only looking after the garden, but also nurturing the most precious flower of your life, in such a beautiful way. So Ganga Das, will you be our Chief Guest for the event?"

(I know, not many schools, or people in today's scenario, will show such a beautiful gesture, but this is a very small attempt in bringing out a difference/change. I feel it will be worth the while, if this narrative could motivate even a single soul who is reading this.)

Think about it...
Cheers.
:)

"Khabar hai hamein bhi, samaaj ki mitti mein;
Iss nayi soch ko ugney mein, waqt toh lagega abhi;
Par hum bhi ummed ka beej boney ki himmat rakhte hain".

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