Daughter giving mother a colorful bouquet of flowers in living room

A Love That Never Fades: Happy Mother’s Day

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Daughter giving mother a colorful bouquet of flowers in living room
A daughter surprises her mother with a beautiful bouquet on Mother’s Day

A Love That Never Fades: Happy Mother’s Day

Kamlesh Tripathi

    Writers across ages have tried to capture the essence of a mother’s love, yet words often fall short. As Rudyard Kipling once beautifully said, “God could not be everywhere, and therefore he made mothers.” And in a more tender reflection, Victor Hugo reminded, “A mother’s arms are made of tenderness, and children sleep soundly in them.”

    There are some things in life that time cannot touch. Years may pass, seasons may change, entire lifetimes may unfold, yet a mother’s memory remains untouched. It does not fade, it does not blur. Instead, it deepens, growing more meaningful with every passing day.

    Even in her absence, there is a quiet presence that never leaves. Though she may no longer be physically with us, something within us constantly keeps reminding us that she is still around us, and she cares in ways we may not always see but always feel.

    A mother’s love is first experienced in the gentle rhythm of life itself. She lifts us to moments of joy that feel like cloud nine. She cradles us with warmth and affection, and shapes our world through stories, songs, and silent sacrifices. She teaches resilience, not always through words, but through her quiet strength. She shows us how to endure, how to grow, and most importantly, how to shine in this uncertain world.

    Across cultures and ages, this timeless essence of motherhood finds reflection in mythology. In the Indian epic Mahabharata, Kunti stands as a symbol of quiet endurance and unwavering strength. Despite immense trials, she raised her sons with courage and wisdom, shaping them into men of character and destiny. Similarly, Yashoda from the Bhagavata Purana represents unconditional love in its purest form, nurturing the divine child Krishna not as a god, but simply as her own beloved son.

    In the Ramayana, Kaushalya embodies grace and quiet dignity, while Sita, though remembered as a devoted wife, also reflects the strength, sacrifice, and nurturing spirit of a mother. Beyond Indian tradition, even in Greek mythology, Demeter personifies maternal love through her relentless search for her daughter Persephone, a love so profound that it changes the very rhythm of the seasons.

    This sacred bond has also been beautifully captured in the English literature. In Sons and Lovers, the intense emotional connection between Paul Morel and his mother reveals how deeply a mother shapes her child’s inner world, sometimes becoming the very axis of his identity. Likewise, in Little Women, Marmee stands as a timeless figure of warmth, wisdom, and moral strength, guiding her daughters through life with patience and quiet dignity.

    Motherhood is not confined to mythology or literature alone. It lives and breathes in the modern world, too. Figures like Mother Teresa transformed compassion into a universal form of motherhood. Countless unnamed mothers embody quiet heroism. Their love may not always be celebrated in books, yet it is deeply inscribed in the lives they shape.

    A mother is more than a parent. She is our first friend. The one who understands even before we speak. A mentor who guides without seeking recognition. Life after her feels quieter, touched by an absence words cannot describe. Everything she taught becomes a part of who we are. While many things fade, a mother’s imprint never does. Many of life’s small joys seem dimmer when she’s not there. Her memories do not diminish; they multiply. They return like gentle waves, bringing comfort and reminding us that she is never truly lost.

    A mother never fades. She continues to shine, not just in memory, but in the way we live, love, and move forward. She exists in every breath we take, in every step we make, and in every kindness we extend to the world.

    And so, on this Mother’s Day, we don’t just remember her, we celebrate her. Not as someone who was, but as someone who still is, and always will be, beyond time, beyond absence, and beyond even our own days. In her, we find comfort, wisdom, and a sense of belonging that no other relationship can quite replicate. We may forget many things we learned in the world, but the essence of what she gave us stays unchanged, guiding our thoughts and actions long after she is gone. Closing with Vande Matram.

Written and posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

Author, Poet, & Columnist

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https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

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Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, including children and adults, and have a huge variety of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause of cancer? The bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

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SHORT STORY: TWILIGHT TREMORS … by Kamlesh Tripathi

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TWILIGHT TREMORS

Kamlesh Tripathi

    Rita drew the curtains of her room while gazing at the setting sun sinking below the horizon, as if quietly closing a chapter of her own life. In that lingering gaze, she caught the first twinkling stars and the scattered lights amid the rolling hills of Shillong, once called the Scotland of the East, from her home in Laitumkhrah.

   Twinkling lights…. perhaps, that was all that had remained, after she had decided to give Griffith a miss.

    Today, Griffith was flying back to Melbourne from Guwahati. By now, he was likely airborne, cutting through clouds with pleasant memories. He had entered her life late, yet in that brief span, they had shared moments of rare warmth. At times, she wondered, was it a gift or a gentle disruption? Should she move forward with him, or retreat into the life she had carefully built?

    A practising doctor and a lifelong bachelor, Griffith had come into her world when she had long accepted solitude. After her husband’s passing, Rita had lived alone, her children absorbed in their global careers. Yet Griffith’s presence had stirred something within her, making her feel alive again, almost defying the quiet onset of age.

    He was attached to a clinic in Shillong, often visiting for missionary work, having seen life closely through service to the underprivileged. They had met at the library of the Shillong Club, united by their love for books. He had proposed, gently but sincerely. Rita, however, had chosen friendship, deep, meaningful, but contained.

    Rita herself was shaped by books and music. A Loreto Shillong alumna, she carried literature not on her shelves but within her being. It guided her silences, her reflections, and her sudden flashes of understanding. Music softened the edges of her loneliness.

    From Pride and Prejudice, she had learned discernment, the art of seeing beyond appearances, much like Elizabeth Bennet. The writings of Rainer Maria Rilke had taught her that solitude was not emptiness, but a sacred inward journey. William Shakespeare’s Hamlet lingered within her. It question, “To be or not to be”, echoing through her own dilemmas.

    And then there was the quiet surrender of “Que será, será,” popularised by Doris Day… a gentle acceptance of life’s unpredictability. The haunting transformations of Franz Kafka unsettled her, while the fear of the unknown, echoed in The Exorcist, sometimes mirrored the tremors of the earth beneath Shillong.

    Reading was not an escape. It was her way of becoming.

    Yet, even with her disciplined life, her fitness routines, her careful financial independence, her writing for newspapers, there lingered a faint despondency. Her children, one in Bengaluru and the other in the UK, belonged to worlds far removed from hers.

    Griffith had invited her to Australia for a long stay. She had prepared for it, even reached Guwahati airport, but at the final moment, something held her back. She returned home, choosing the familiarity of her inner world over the uncertainty of a deeper bond.

   She explained her decision to Griffith later. She could offer friendship, but not a life intertwined. He understood. And life carried them in separate directions.

   Days settled into months.

    Rita returned to her rhythms: morning exercise, quiet writing, walks through Police Bazar, cups of hot tea against the Shillong chill, and occasional visits to the Ward Lake and Shillong Club. Books once again filled her hours, though now, at times, a thought of Griffith would slip quietly between the pages. The tragedy of Romeo and Juliet touched her, and the tenderness of Dr Zhivago softened her.

    Six months passed in this gentle solitude.

    One winter evening, as she sat with a cup of tea, the doorbell rang. Her maid had left for the day. She walked to the door and asked, “Who is it?” There was no reply. She hesitated, then opened it.

    Griffith stood there.

    In his hands was a bouquet of white roses, her favourite. A small placard read: “For Rita, my bestest friend”.

    For a moment, she simply looked at him, as if unsure whether he belonged to memory or reality.

    “How…?” she began.

    He smiled, a little uncertainly this time. “Since you chose not to come to Melbourne, I thought I would come to Shillong. I’ve found work here. I’m… here, if you want me to be. We are both alone, Rita. Perhaps life is not about choosing between solitude and companionship, but finding a way to hold both.”

    There was a pause, soft, unhurried.

    The twilight outside had deepened, but something within her shifted, almost imperceptibly. For once, she did not search for meaning in a book, nor weigh her decision against borrowed wisdom.

She stepped aside.

And let him in.

Written and posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

Author, Poet, & Columnist

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https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

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Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, including children and adults, and have a huge variety of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause of cancer? The bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

***

The Roller Coaster Life of Kunti … by Kamlesh Tripathi

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–The Roller Coaster Life of Kunti–

Kamlesh Tripathi

    Kunti’s life is a powerful narrative of endurance, sacrifice, and wisdom. Despite immense personal suffering, she upheld her duties as a mother and a queen with unwavering resolve. Her story remains a timeless testament of strength and moral courage.

    She is one of the most significant characters in the Mahabharata. Kunti was originally named Pritha. She was born into a Yadava clan as the daughter of King Shurasena of Mathura. She was later adopted by his issueless cousin Kuntibhoja, from whom she got the name Kunti. She was raised in a royal household and was trained in discipline, duty, and service.

    A defining moment in her early life came when the unpredictable and short-tempered sage Durvasa visited Kuntibhoja’s court. Kunti was entrusted with his care, a task that required patience and precision, as even a small mistake could have brought grave consequences. Through her unwavering dedication, she pleased the sage, who granted her a powerful boon, a mantra that enabled her to invoke any deity and bear a child by them. This divine gift, though extraordinary, soon became the source of deep personal conflict.

    Out of youthful curiosity, one day Kunti decided to test the mantra. In the hour of dawn, she invoked Surya, the Sun God. Bound by the power of the mantra, Surya appeared and gifted her a son. Despite her fear and reluctance, she was assured that her virginity would remain intact. The child, Karna, was thus born with divine armour and earrings. Nevertheless, bound by the rigid norms of society and fearing disgrace, Kunti made the heart-wrenching decision to abandon her newborn. She placed him in a basket and set him afloat on a river, praying for his safety. This act remained a lifelong source of sorrow and guilt for her.

    In time, Kunti was married to King Pandu of Hastinapur, after which she became the queen of the Kuru kingdom. But soon after, Pandu married Madri, a princess of Madra Desh, located in the North-western part of the Indian subcontinent, on the advice of Bhishma. Though initially dejected, Kunti reconciled herself to the situation and treated Madri with kindness and sisterly affection.

    King Pandu’s life took a tragic turn when he accidentally killed Sage Kindama, who had taken the form of a deer while copulating with his wife. As he lay dying, the sage cursed Pandu that he would die if ever he attempted to have sexual intimacy with his wives. Traumatised, Pandu renounced his throne and retreated to the forest with Kunti and Madri. But burdened by the inability to have children, he expressed his despair to his wives. Kunti then revealed her divine boon. With Pandu’s consent, she invoked the Gods to bear her sons: Yudhishthira from Dharma, the God of justice; Bhima from Vayu Deva, the Wind God; and Arjuna from Indra, the king of Devas.

    Showing generosity, Kunti shared the mantra with Madri, who invoked the Ashvins and gave birth to twin sons, Nakula and Sahadeva. Kunti treated the children with equal love, particularly caring for the youngest, Sahadeva.

    Tragedy struck again when King Pandu, forgetting the curse, tried to embrace Madri and died instantly. Overcome with grief and guilt, Madri chose to immolate herself on his funeral pyre, entrusting Kunti with the care of all five children. With immense strength, Kunti accepted this responsibility and returned to Hastinapur with the young princes.

    In the Kuru court, Kunti faced dreadful challenges. The sons of Dhritarashtra, especially Duryodhana, harboured deep jealousy toward the Pandavas. There were repeated attempts on their lives, including the poisoning of Bhima and the infamous Lakshagraha (house of lac) plot, where a palace made of lac was set on fire to kill them. Forewarned by Vidura, Kunti and her sons escaped through a secret tunnel. Then there was the disrobing of Draupadi (or the attempted disrobing) in the Kaurava court in Hastinapur, immediately after Yudhishthira lost her in a rigged game of dice, where Lord Krishna saved her. This was followed by the horrendous declaration that the Pandavas (sons of Pandu) had become das (servants/slaves) when they lost in the Dice Game (Dyut Krida). Kunti took all the atrocities on the chin.

    Living in disguise, the Pandavas spent time in Ekachakra village, where Kunti displayed both compassion and courage. When a Brahmin family was to sacrifice a member to the demon Bakasura, Kunti offered her son Bhima instead. Bhima defeated the demon, saving the village. Later, at her insistence, Bhima married Hidimbi, and their son Ghatotkacha was born.

    A turning point came at the swayamvara of Draupadi, where Arjuna won her hand in marriage. When the brothers returned home and told Kunti they had brought alms, she unknowingly asked them to share it equally. Bound by her words, Draupadi became the wife of all five brothers. Though initially shocked, Kunti accepted the outcome, which ultimately strengthened the unity among her sons.

    As the Pandavas established their kingdom in Indraprastha, Kunti guided them through political and personal challenges. However, after losing their kingdom in a game of dice, they were exiled for thirteen years. During this time, Kunti remained in Hastinapura, choosing to live in Vidura’s house rather than the royal palace.

    Before the great war of the Mahabharat, Kunti met Karna and revealed that he was her firstborn son. She pleaded with him to join the Pandavas, but he refused out of loyalty to Duryodhana. Nevertheless, he promised Kunti that she would still have five sons at the end of the war, sparing all except Arjuna. Kunti also experienced Ashwatthama’s brutal murder of the five Pandav sons (the Upapandavas) while they were sleeping on the final night of the Kurukshetra war, later attempting to destroy the last heir in Uttara’s womb by Brahmastra, but was saved by Lord Krishna.

        After the Kurukshetra war, in which Karna was killed, Kunti revealed the truth of his birth to the Pandavas. This revelation caused deep grief, particularly to Yudhishthira, who cursed all women to be unable to keep secrets. Having fulfilled her duties, Kunti eventually renounced worldly life. She retired to the forest with Dhritarashtra, Gandhari, and others. There, she met her end in a forest fire, bringing her long and eventful life to a close.

Written and posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

Author, Poet, & Columnist

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https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

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Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, including children and adults, and have a huge variety of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause of cancer? The bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

***

The Festival of Baisakhi … by Kamlesh Tripathi

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The Festival of Baisakhi

Kamlesh Tripathi

    Baisakhi marks the first day of the month of Vaisakh. It is traditionally celebrated on the 13th or 14th of April every year. It is widely deemed as a spring harvest festival, especially in Punjab and Northern India, including the North East. Along with its agricultural importance, it is also considered the Indian Solar New Year in many regions. However, Sikhs celebrate their New Year in the first month of Chet according to the Nanakshahi calendar.

    Hindu scriptures do not mention ‘Baisakhi’ explicitly as a named festival, but they do insinuate seasonal, solar, and harvest references that reflect the central idea of Baisakhi. The Bhagavad Gita enumerates, ‘from food arises existence, rain produces food, and from sacrifice comes rain,’ thus reflecting the cycle of nature and harvest, core to Baisakhi. The Rigveda alludes, ‘may the fields be rich with grain, may the plough bring prosperity, and may the rains nourish the earth, reflecting the harvest gratitude central to Baisakhi. The Atharveda describes agricultural abundance, ‘O Earth, our mother, set firm in truth, may we be blessed with food in plenty, and live in harmony with your seasons.’ The traditional Hindu calendar (Panchang) says, ‘when the Sun enters Mesha (Aries), the new year dawns with light and hope,’ the astronomical basis of Baisakhi.

    Historically, Baisakhi was one of the most important annual market festivals of North India. Though it began as a grain harvest festival among Hindus and predates the creation of Sikhism, it later became deeply associated with the history of Sikhism.

    For Sikhs, Baisakhi is not only a harvest celebration but also a day of profound religious and historical significance. Devotees participate in kirtans, prabhat pheri, visit gurdwaras, organise community fairs, and take part in vibrant nagar kirtan processions. The Nishan Sahib flag is ceremonially raised, and people gather to socialise and share festive meals. Most importantly, the festival commemorates the founding of the Khalsa by Guru Gobind Singh on 13 April 1699.

    Another important milestone linked with Baisakhi is the coronation of Maharaja Ranjit Singh as the ruler of the Sikh Empire on 12 April 1801, which coincided with the festival and marked the emergence of a unified political state.

    Baisakhi is also remembered as a tragic day in Indian history. On this day in 1919, British officer Reginald Dyer ordered his troops to fire upon a peaceful gathering in Amritsar, resulting in the infamous Jallianwala Bagh massacre.

    It is also celebrated by Hindu communities across India under different regional names. For many Hindus, it marks the beginning of the solar New Year. On this occasion, people take ritual baths in sacred rivers like the Ganges, Jhelum, Kaveri and many others. They visit temples, meet friends and relatives, perform charitable acts (daan), and participate in festive celebrations.

    In different parts of India, Baisakhi coincides with other regional New Year festivals such as Puthandu, Pohela Boishakh, Bohag Bihu aka Rongali Bihu, and Vishu. Though the names vary, the spirit of celebration, renewal, and gratitude remains the same.

    The date of Baisakhi is determined by the solar calendar and gradually shifts over time due to astronomical changes. While it is currently observed on 13th or 14th April, it fell on 11 April in 1801 and is expected to occur on 29 April by the year 2999.

    The term ‘Baisakhi’ is derived from “Vaishakha,” the name of a month in the Hindu calendar, which itself originates from the Vishakha nakshatra. For Hindus, Baisakhi symbolises prosperity, renewal, and thanksgiving. It marks the completion of the harvest season, a time of abundance and joy for farmers. Fairs, temple processions, and special prayers are commonly organised, reflecting both cultural vibrancy and spiritual devotion.

In essence, Baisakhi is a festival that beautifully combines agricultural celebration, religious devotion, and historical remembrance. It reflects the rich cultural diversity of India while promoting unity, gratitude, and a sense of shared heritage among its people.

Written and posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

Author, Poet, & Columnist

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https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

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Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, including children and adults, and have a huge variety of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause of cancer? The bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

***