Trembling voice; moving train; eyes seemingly will be showered with tears; feeling of a warm hand and compassionate glance;
Glance of a loving Mother!
My friend Nilam, her sister Nisha, their mother and I were going in the train to the station. It was time when I visited Mumbai for the first time.
I was studying in Mysore. But on the first vacation I decided to visit one of the world famous Temples - Sri Sri Radha Gopinath Mandir in Girgaun, Mumbai. Temple is famous not because of its wealth but because of wonderful congregation. Place where Devotees take care of each other so nicely. Where big, big persons, industrialist, the wealthiest personalities do menial services like washing pots and collecting shoes of guests; where big or small you are, no matter what, you are accepted and loved equally...
It was the place where I meet my friends Nilam and Nisha and then they invited me to stay at their small, rented room.
Room was so small that when 4-5 people lie down room gets filled up. But still family was so kind. Father and younger brother slept on the top roof of the room so that girls could sleep down. It was a small room like place above that small room. It is a traditional room in a crowded Mumbai with millions of people. They had tiny room but ocean like hearts!
First evening they cooked puran puri, rice, dhal, and chapatti and offered me Prasadam on a banana leaf. They taught me how to eat the food; telling me what should be taken first, second and last.
In this way I stayed with them for few days. My vacation came to an end. I had to leave Mumbai.
The last day I went to the Temple and wanted to spend some more time there and directly leave to the station. Nilam was with me. She was taking me to the station. On the way we meet her mother and sister Nisha. Then we sat on a city train. Nisha brought out a huge plastic box out of mango sweets. But that was filled up with some food. She handed me the box and told that it was cooked by her mother especially for my long trip to Mysore.
I was touched with their care and said that there was no need; I could buy some fruits on the way. Nisha told ‘no, no. Journey is so long. You will be hungry. So my mom did not sleep at night but made this especially for you.’
She continued: ‘it is a rice papad. She could not find rice flour late evening so had to buy rice and make flour out of that herself. Then she fried all these papads in ghee.’ ‘So she made it for you, please take!’
I did not eat rice, plus fired rice for over 5-6 years. But in order to accept her love I accepted it to make her happy. But that was external.
From within I felt so much of her love, care that while all we were sitting tears flow from my eyes. Nisha’s mother noticed it and immediately came up to me and embraced me. My voice was chocking I could not speak for a while. Later I told that my own mom would never ever cook for us when we go to school. Of course she was a working lady of a Soviet Union time when everyone was starving with no food and money.
But still, I grew up wanting and yearning for the food from the hand of my mom; which never ever used to happen. So our lunch used to be a piece of Russian bread and margarine applied on it.
But here I saw and felt so much of motherly love. She did not sleep for whole night, doing all that flour out of rice and then frying them one by one; and it was not for her own kids but for someone whom they know only for few days.
While saying all these I continued crying. Tears were flowing from my eyes. Mother started worried herself, started to dry my tears with her hand saying something in Hindi followed by ‘Aree, aree!’
It was the time when I meet a true Mother. Indian Mother! Loving and caring Mother!
It says that Mother is a first guru to a child. So by her examples mother teaches her kids. And the best education is not that we know much; not that we can earn much;
But the best education is when we gain good qualities! We learn lovingly to take care of others!