The Quiet Grace of My Mother
The tenderness, the resilience, the fierce quiet of a woman who turned survival into sanctuary— this is dharma, to raise worlds quietly when no one's watching.
This is the story* of my mother.
A woman who became a widow at the age of 25.
At an age when most young women are dreaming of love, walks by the beach with someone special — my mother had only her daughter, and a mountain of pain, and her own mother to lean on.
My mother has endured countless hardships. Life, for her, has often been a relentless test. As a child, she suffered a fall down two steps and was left permanently disabled in her left arm due to polio. Despite extensive treatment, the disability became a part of her life. But she never let it define her. She didn’t give up. She managed the household and mastered sewing, embroidery, and knitting—all with one hand.
When it came time to marry, the very first proposal she received turned into a match. Her beauty, skill, and vibrant spirit were impossible to ignore.
My father tried various businesses after their wedding. His contracting work was going well when I was born.
But fate had other plans.
A simple fever turned fatal.
After his death, my mother started teaching at a private school for a meager salary of 300 rupees a month. Her only dream was to give me a good education. Everyone advised her to send me to the same Hindi-medium school where she taught, but one of her sister-in-law said:
“Even if you have to live on bread and water, don’t compromise your daughter’s education.”
So my mother saved every rupee she could to send me to an English-medium school. She asked for only one thing in return: A promise that I would study hard and win the scholarship that covered 80% of the fees.
She walked to school every day so I could take a rickshaw.
She never bought new clothes for herself, but always gave me a new outfit on my birthday and every Diwali.
She did the household chores—washing clothes, cleaning utensils—with one hand, so I could have time not only to study, but also to play!
I graduated from HBTI, Kanpur with the help of government aid and Fair & Lovely scholarships.
The day her lifelong dedication bore fruit was when reporters came to our house to interview me because I had topped my engineering stream and was awarded the silver medal at graduation.
When I was little, I used to give her poems instead of gifts.
Here is the one closest to my heart:
A Remarkable Woman
It’s only now that I truly understand Why she sings always of love, of warmth Though life gave her a thousand sorrows, She never bowed, never gave up.
Her childhood, a fleeting joy A vibrant bloom that never blossomed Youth came with fresh energy, But so did life’s trials and tests.
A new challenge, a cruel twist But she made no complaint, Treated it like a new chapter, And walked on without blame.
She never asked for sympathy, Never shared her wounds aloud. She raised her daughter with devotion, And made her the purpose of her life.
She never doubted the grace of God, Bowed her head without condition. She never let pain become suffering, Never named her misery define her company
Today I pray for them, Who have lived in service for others, May their selfless efforts be rewarded, May success kiss their pious feet, May their life bloom into a garden, And every path they walk be laid with soft petals.
*English translation by ChatGPT of my Hindi post and poem