I still ask “how selfless can someone be?”

I say look at a mother, the epitome is she.

Each time when fever crept;

Sleepless nights, by our bed she wept.

Dear Mother

As a little boy I was scolded, I roamed teary-eyed;

You took me in your arms, as I complained and cried.

Each pain of mine, with love you’d rinse;

I promise to be a good man, to be your prince.

As old as I become, I will always be your child;

And long for your solace, so tranquil and mild.

You tended to my wounds and healed my burns;

But dear mother, you asked for nothing in return.

The tranquility of a mosque, a temple or a church;

In your presence, I find each time I search.

A god given gift or a priceless reward;

You’re my life, my mother my god.

Rahul Saraf | PGDM 2017-19