The Beloved

The Beloved

May 12, 2019

Anything that inherits value in this world need isn't given to you. You have to fight a war against the world to hold possession of things that holds some value in our lives. While on the flip-side, there are some invaluable possessions which do not require our blood, sweat and tears. Some virtues like mother's love which needs not to be acquired or deserved but it belongs to us right from the moment we open our eyes to the moment we close them.

There are not words enough to describe the holy relationship between a mother and her offspring. The power of motherhood that nurtures and nourishes, protects a developing embryo for months till the point she finally brings a soul to life, a mother plays an immaculate role in forming a person's life and still rather goes unsaid for.

It takes a fool to make a baby, it takes a mother to raise one. A blessing in its truest sense, she is the nearest form of godliness we can witness in our lives. She holds her child to her heart, makes him feel like she's blessed from above, nothing can match the selfless behavior of a mother towards her child.

A kid is a blank canvas and a mother is the painter who strokes her magic brush through the carrot and sometimes the cane, brings out the art form to life. Some of the greatest personalities we know in the human kind have been a deliberate result of the wisest mothers. Albert Einstein's mother believed in him when everyone else could just see an idiot. She recognized the abilities her son had, and turned him into a person we read sermons of in modern day science.

Mothers have lifted curses off of their children, and destroyed entire dynasties. A mother’s love is the strongest energy known to man. There is no velvet so soft as a mother’s lap, no rose as lovely as her smile, no path so flowery as that imprinted with her footsteps. A mother’s love is everything. It is what brings a child into this world. It is what moulds their entire being. When a mother sees her child in danger, she is literally capable of anything.

In Islam, Mohammed had preached that paradise resides under a mother's feet. A man is on a path of grace even if he smiles towards his mother. No other intellect, religion or preacher shares the same level of idolization like a mother. "The Story of the Aged Mother" is a Japanese folklore which tells the story about a place in Japan where any aged citizen had to be abandoned by the young, left in a valley to meet their fate.

At the foot of the mountain lived a poor farmer and his aged, widowed mother. The poor farmer loved his aged mother with tender reverence, and the order filled his heart with sorrow. But no one ever thought twice about obeying the mandate of the governor, so with many deep and hopeless sighs, the youth prepared for what at that time was considered the kindest mode of death.

Just at sundown, when his day’s work was ended, he took a quantity of unwhitened rice which was the principal food for the poor, and he cooked, dried it, and tied it in a square cloth, which he swung in a bundle around his neck along with a gourd filled with cool, sweet water. Then he lifted his helpless old mother to his back and started on his painful journey up the mountain. The road was long and steep; the narrow road was crossed and re-crossed by many paths made by the hunters and woodcutters.

In some place, they were lost and confused, but he gave no heed.

One path or another, it mattered not. On he went, climbing blindly upward -- ever upward towards the high bare summit of what is known as Obatsuyama, the mountain of the “abandoning of the aged.”

The eyes of the old mother were not so dim but that they noted the reckless hastening from one path to another, and her loving heart grew anxious. Her son did not know the mountain’s many paths and his return might be one of danger, so she stretched forth her hand and snapping the twigs from brushes as they passed, she quietly dropped a handful every few steps of the way so that as they climbed, the narrow path behind them was dotted at frequent intervals with tiny piles of twigs. At last the summit was reached. Weary and heart sick, the youth gently released his burden and silently prepared a place of comfort as his last duty to the loved one. Gathering fallen pine needles, he made a soft cushion and tenderly lifted his old mother onto it. Hew rapped her padded coat more closely about the stooping shoulders and with tearful eyes and an aching heart he said farewell.

The trembling mother’s voice was full of unselfish love as she gave her last injunction. “Let not your eyes be blinded, my son.” She said. “The mountain road is full of dangers. Look carefully and follow the path which holds the piles of twigs. They will guide you to the familiar path farther down”. The son’s surprised eyes looked back over the path, then at the poor old, shriveled hands all scratched and soiled by their work of love. His heart broke within and bowing to the ground, he cried aloud: “oh, Honorable mother, your kindness breaks my heart! I will not leave you. Together we will follow the path of twigs, and together we will die!”

Once more he shouldered his burden, though how light it seemed now and hastened down the path, through the shadows and the moonlight, to the little hut in the valley. Beneath the kitchen floor was a walled closet for food, which was covered and hidden from view. There the son hid his mother, supplying her with everything she needed, continually watching and fearing she would be discovered. Time passed, and he was beginning to feel safe when again the governor sent forth heralds bearing an unreasonable order, seemingly as a boast of his power. His demand was that his subjects should present him with a rope of ashes.

The entire province trembled with dread. One night, in great distress, the son whispered the news to his hidden mother. “Wait!” she said. “I will think. I will think” On the second day she told him what to do. “Make rope of twisted straw,” she said. “Then stretch it upon a row of flat stones and burn it on a windless night.” He called the people together and did as she said and when the blaze died down, there upon the stones, with every twist and fiber showing perfectly, lay a rope of ashes.The governor was pleased at the wit of the youth and praised greatly, but he demanded to know where he had obtained his wisdom. “Alas! Alas!” cried the farmer, “the truth must be told!” and with deep bows he related his story. The governor listened and then meditated in silence. Finally he lifted his head. “Shining needs more than strength of youth,” he said gravely. “Ah, that I should have forgotten the well-known saying, “with the crown of snow, there comes wisdom!” That very hour the cruel law was abolished, and custom drifted into as far a past that only legends remain.

A mother is clothed with strength and dignity, laughs without fear of the future. When she speaks her words are wise and she gives instructions with kindness. Sometimes I wonder if evolution really is a thing because if it was, how could mothers still have only 2 arms?

On the occasion of Mother's day, my heart pours out to all the selfless, forgiving, loving mothers out there. I want you to make that woman giggle today. 

I ponder upon how much my mother suffered to give me the life I'm living today. I'd consider myself lucky enough if I was able to return her a portion of love she showered on me.

I love my mother and thank her for all she did for me.

I hope you do too.

 

 

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