Thank You.

It is difficult to prevent life
From making us bitter.

The loss of someone we love
More so when it is one who loved us
Helped us with our first steps, our mother.

To give and not have any expectations
of thanks, a nod, a smile.
To hold life and the ones dear,
dearer than the gold given away.

It takes great strength
not to have life define us.
It takes great strength to live
to love, to give
and to be at peace.

It is not often that we say
but I think it is important that we do
for times likes these cross
far apart and few.

It is important that
we remember to thank them
for both me and you.

Agni (Hindi: Fire)

As I lay down
Looking up at the setting sky
a million stars smiling down
sound of river tapping (lapping) the banks

I hear the rustling on the sand.
There you were standing next to me
tears in your eyes.
You looked just like your were
when I first held you in my arms.

I turned away to see the brilliant sky
as the flames shot up around me
taking me and greeting the sky.

At that instance – Mukh-Agni
Everything fleeted before my eyes
As I saw my mother reaching out
I turned to see your face
And we both smiled.

Amar Ma (Bengali: My Mother)

Experience gives a perspective to life and to relationships. Growing up as an only child, I had only one perspective - of being a son. I would like to think that my parents had it easy. I am sure each generation thinks fondly that it was easy for their parents and quite different in the current time. I am sure this line of thinking gets played out with every generation.

Growing up, it was very difficult to relate to my parent's perspective of being parents or even parenting. That all changed very gradually with my first born. A perspective was developed. This got further strengthened with my second born.

Parenting is tough. My parents had it tough. As parents, we all do. It is par for the course.

No matter how much I think I was an easy kid (now who am I kidding), my Ma (Mother) always put up with me. Put me first.

Over the last 3 months, my Ma's health deteriorated. My family and I had the opportunity of spending this summer with her. I spent time with her, talked to her, related to her as a son and as a parent. She spent a lot of time talking about her childhood. Inspite of all the challenges growing up through Partition, of leaving Bangladesh and starting a new life in West Bengal, she had a happy and loving childhood. She was happy.

Tough as it was for me, in not so many words, I thanked her for being my Ma. I told her that in the circle of life, if it was true, I would like for her to be my mother next time round - if she would take me up on that offer. She smiled.

I would like to think that today, Friday July 25 she started the day with her morning tea. In my mind, after finishing her tea, she got out of bed. Bare feet she shuffled to the door, threw it open and ran into the street of her childhood. I could hear her shout "Ma, Baba, wait". Up ahead, in the morning light stood her parents, her two elder sisters and her elder brother. They smiled, embraced. "Cholo bari jai" (Bengali: Let us go home).