Somebody’s mother! The poem by Mary Dow Brine brought tears to my eyes. A poor and old lady is standing on the roadside waiting to cross the road. Lost in the heavy traffic, she stands helplessly waiting for some supporting hand. “She stood at the crossing and waited long / Alone, uncared for, amid the throng / Of human beings who passed her by, / Nor heeded the glance of her anxious eye” At this moment, glad of the freedom of ‘school let out’, hordes of merry children were passing by. One of them stopped, came to the old lady, helped her cross the road and went back to his friends. “Then back again to his friends he went, / His young heart happy and well content. / “She’s somebody’s mother, boys, you know, / For all she’s aged and poor and slow; / And I hope some fellow will lend a hand / To help my mother, you understand, / If ever she’s poor and old and gray, / When her own dear boy is far away.” The old lady also prays at night, “God be kind to the noble boy /Who is somebody’s son and pride and joy.” If Somebody’s mother is always helped by somebody’s son then everybody’s mother and son will be happy. But it is not to be so. It is always a rare occurrence. I remember of one similar story. A lonely widow is waiting in her hut for her son’s return home. Instead, she receives the ghastly news of her son being shot dead by someone. Suddenly a youth enters her hut and asks her to hide him from the police. He tells her that unable to control his anger, he has shot someone dead and police are now after him. She hides him till the police lose the trail of the murderer. When asked as to why she gave shelter to her son’s murderer, she says that he is somebody’s son and she knows the grief of losing son. It is always a noble gesture – somebody’s son helping somebody’s mother and somebody’s mother helping somebody’s son. In India instances of mothers helping somebody’s son can be found in plenty. Rather, the concept of universal motherhood has made occurrence of such instances a common phenomenon in our country. The Sanghjanani of Ramakrishna Mission is Ma Sarada, the holy consort of Shri Ramakrishna Paramhansa. Because of their unusual relationship, which was completely on a spiritual plane, Ma Sarada’s mother once asked Sri Ramakrishna Paramhansa that would not her daughter be a mother ever? Sri Ramakrishna Paramhansa replied that she will be surrounded by such a large number of children calling her mother that she will have no time for anything else. And in reality also many children came to her and she also accepted each one of them and blessed them in their quest for realisation. Many of the children would behave irresponsibly, commit mistakes but she always forgave them and put them on the right path. She was not only somebody’s mother, she was everybody’s mother, so much so that her motherhood crossed the boundaries of religion. Once a poor non-Hindu rickshawpuller went to a house to give back the luggage forgotten by the traveller. As he entered the house, he exclaimed, “How do you have my mother’s photo in your house?” He was told that it was the photograph of Ma Sarada. Everybody was amazed. That poor man saw his mother in Ma Sarada’s photograph. A few days back, I had been to Delhi for some work. I was staying with some friends. We went out for shopping. There was one auntie in our group. As we were walking side by side I felt that Auntie’s feet were faltering. Instinctively I held her hand. She also gripped my hand and we walked together. Her grip on my hand made me remember how my mother used to hold my hand. My mother left this world two years back. Before that, my ill mother would walk on her unsteady steps and grip my hand for support. I remembered all this that day when I held auntie’s hand. What if she was not my mother? She was somebody’s mother!

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