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.
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