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Maa: The Mother
A pathetic tale that will fill your eyes with tears
Life is to live. Death is to die. This final truth cannot be denied. Resultantly some dead bodies are burned, some buried while some are sailed in the holy river for total immersion. Generally for a day, a month, or hardly a year the lifeless mortal remains in the sad memory and after that a complete non-existence. Only a few loyal hearts to the departed dear apply the priced resources for the demised. The parks, the roads, the streets, villas, towns, schools, colleges, playgrounds and other institutions are named after them, but they are not lasting. As the time passes, their glamour diminishes and after that they become mere addresses or rough spots to treat and tread.
The real homage lies in rendering the memories in written inscriptions on pages forming a booklet or a book, as it retains up to date generation and centuries ahead, and it is generally seen that the biographical volumes and documents of century old still lie secured in library and museums and they are read with pride and delight. Such kind of tribute may be a sincere homage for all times to come. Whenever you pick up and turn pages, immediately the whole picture of the dead will sail before your eyes. You will be serious and thoughtful even your eyes will well with tears. Heart will become heavy with sad thoughts. Body will begin to stir till you finish or half finish the worded episode.
It is my impulsive tilt and impassionate bend that I have framed my departed mother in a book form. I am charged with the common remarks by the common readers with the words. “Oh! Author, what is rare in your reading? It is the common course of law of nature that mothers die and have been dying since the creation has dawned”. I know that the departed soul is my mother, the simple mother of a simple son. But mother is mother whether she may be his, yours or mine. In this way a woman is the mother of everyone who is born in this universe and thus she is the mother not of a particular man, a family, a caste, creed, class, or a nation but of the whole creation. I have ventured to reflect that through my mother.
Indeed the mother is a breeder, and the mighty God is feeder. Mother gives life. God annihilates life. The one creates while the other degenerates. The one breezes, the other ceases. In this way both are like the great grocers dating the living goods in the spirit of give and take pattern. The woman gives and God takes. The giver is always deemed high and the taker a fly. In this way I salute every breeder, chiefly my mother.
Born on 27th March 1939 in Bareilly, U.P. India, S. P. Saxena who is a writer by passion writes under the pen name “Surya”. He is an M.A. in English (Lucknow). His five creative works that include short stories, essays and perceptions are Twilight Offering, Hanging by Threads, Scattered Pearls, The Unescaped Raptures and What After That. Besides these works, one long poem Koel and four novels, namely, The Alluring Shadows, The Three Streams, Back to Paradise and Maa: The Mother have come out from his pen. He has also written a number of reviews on noted poets and writers of the country. His poems and short stories are published in the reputed journal like Scoria, Contemporary Vibes, Indian Book Chronicle, Canopy, Poetcrit and Bridge-in-Making.
Surya got the Editors Choice Award, 2009 for his creative / critical writing from the Home of Letters (India), An International Publishers of Book and Journals, Bhubaneshwar (Orissa). He was the Honorary Member to the Research Board of Advisors, American Biographical Institute, America, 1999. He was graced with the Distinguished Leadership Award and was included in the International Directory of Distinguished Leadership of outstanding contribution to writing profession.
He resides at 45, Avas Vikas Colony, Pilikothi, Civil Lines, Moradabad (UP) India.