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A liar at times

Rumita Deb

Like all mothers, I too have a mother who prioritizes my happiness, my troubles, and my worries over everything in her life.

She toils from the wee morning hours to late nights.

And when I ask her....Ma aren't you tired?

She nods her head side’s ways replying in the negative. A lie it is, but with a flash of smile she does it all, putting aside all her weariness and fatigue only to put me at ease.

At dinner, she spreads the platter serving a lion’s share in my dish...

And when I ask her, why only the little portion for herself, her lips loose no time in replying, "Dear, I am full to the brim." It’s in fact another lie to feed me in oodles.

Festivities come and go; she spends her savings in buying the best robes possible for the apple of her eye...

And when I ask her, "Ma won't you buy anything for yourself?" Another prompt lie pours in - "I have too many for my cupboard to hold."

Years roll by. My septuagenarian mother is fragile. Old age ailments grip her body.

And when I ask her, "Do you feel weak and giddy? Should I take you to the doctor?" In a wobbly tone one more lie, she spills out, "I am all well. No worries. You need to take care of yourself." And thus planting a kiss on my forehead, she smiles as if she has the riches of the three worlds.

My Ma, a liar she is, yet priceless.


Rumita Deb

[Disclaimer: The opinions expressed in our Blog are those of the author(s) / poet(s) and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the Publisher.]


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