Who is a mother to a child?
A source of everything—
A source of love and food,
A source of mercy and kindness.
The whole world may go silent,
But a mother—she cannot.
She is Devi, Devil, and Brahma.
No one is ever needed twice—but her.
She is the black, and she the white.
She is the earth, and she is the sky.
She has sacrificed her life for a boy—
To run away from her is nothing but sin.
O child, your mother has long been
Embedded deeply within you.
Your ethics, morality, and boundaries—
They are no one else but your mother in you.
Sometimes you try to shower love,
Sometimes you search for it here and there.
Sometimes you sacrifice yourself,
Sometimes you ask others to do the same.
A boy must become a man someday.
He must become a man by knowing:
Mother is mother, and he is he—
Her sacred life he never can imitate.
Neither is every woman a mother,
Nor is every man a father.
A mother is a mother to her children,
A father, a father to his.
This is a bond, a blessed relation.
The human mind is like a mirror—
It often paints itself with images
And forgets what is real, and what is not.
Let this immense love for your mother
Remain just that—love for your mother.
Not every woman must be your mother;
They too have children to awaken these feelings.
The Moon is sweet and nourishing by nature.
But one must not impose her ways on the Sun.
Night gives birth to day, but night is night—
And day should not be called to rest.
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On this auspicious day,
I bow to the great Uma,
Who bestowed the knowledge of Brahma to Indra—
As recorded in the Kenopanishad.
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