To The Mother Who's Not My Birth Giver But Who Fixed My Broken Heart, I'll Make You Proud

Damini Sengupta Damini Sengupta in Life Is Tough on 20 April, 2017

To the mother who did not birth to me,

When I think of writing about you, my fingers tremble and there I always find my emotions predominating over my mind.

True is the fact that every strong bonding happens only through a clear and vivid mind. But my emotions run in and out through my veins making my mind skip a beat whenever I think of writing about you. May be this is the magic of your love.

My mind is always naked when you are in front of my inner soul; surrounding me and protecting me from all the obstacles that life offers and cunningly dumps on me.

You have always protected me like a mother.

My mind is always naked, I admit, as I have nothing to hide from you, even if I try to. Trust me ma I can never hide anything from you for too long. Yes, I address you by that name.

Why? Can’t I? Just because you have not given birth to me? Just because the society might make fun of it?  To hell with everyone. Ma, is it just a word that a child mumbles for the first time? Is it only something by which we address our mothers?

Everyone of us uses the word in some way or the other. Some call it in a fashionable way while others just portray it in a short and abrupt manner. Ma. 


Ma, I too might have used the word when I was a kid. Perhaps. Perhaps not. I don’t remember.

Just a word and all my burdens vanish like that. No it just isn’t a word. May be it has given me the immense pleasures that I cherish today. Not just ‘may be’. It has. Really.

Ma. Isn’t it cute when a mother hears it for the first time from her baby love? But it took me all of four years to call you by that name, to address you by what you actually mean to me. To express all my feelings in just a two lettered word, wasn’t really that easy!

After all, it isn’t just a two lettered word! After all, it is that very powerful word that helps everyone skip a beat for their mothers (only those who know the meaning of it).

Indeed, it carries so much power, so much zeal, so much strength. May be that is the reason why it isn’t that easy to just bring it out from one’s mouth. I know how difficult the situation becomes. You know what you want but the very next moment you don’t do it. You can’t do it. Fear, the strange creation that sometimes becomes a curse. 


A curse. I know what that means. I have faced it, suffered from the depressing moments when I failed to call you Ma. Don’t you remember when you were talking over the phone in the other room and I so badly wanted to just say it from my mouth.

"Just say it," I told myself repeatedly. I was so damn desperate. Once. Twice. Thrice. I tried many a times. And I failed every time. Curse it was!

You understood it all. Though you never showed how badly you wanted me to give you strength by calling you Ma

I remember I was in the washroom one day, when I had tears in my eyes. Destroying the curse, my lips said, ‘Ma’. I knew, at that moment I was the happiest soul on earth. Finally I made you happy. I was on cloud nine.

How can you understand me so well Ma? Sometimes I used to wonder at first but now it has become a habit. Whatever happens, you understand them all. Whatever happens, happens for the good. Yes that’s exactly what you say. I don’t remember how you took the most important part in my life.

I don’t remember when did I actually start admiring you as a mother. I just know that whatever has happened, you are the blessing of my life. Being a child I had my grand parents to look after me while my biological mother worked all day all night for me to raise me up as an individual.

But while doing so, she had forgotten what a child needs the most. Mother. She was so lost in the path of raising me up that time appealed to be short. No I don’t blame her. I am glad that she did all of that for me. Or else I wouldn’t have come across you.

Being a single parent she had done everything that could be done for me. But she is not my mother. I am sorry Ma, for saying this. I am sorry that I can never make you proud.

Ma, I am that only cursed child of yours who has made your life hell. I have given all the negative things and never ever have I made you rely on me. I am that cursed child who once flew away from her office and cried her heart out while you were rubbing your hands on her head, giving her new hopes. So much strength you gifted me that day. So much faith you offered every time. 

But yes, I am that cursed child who has always let you down, who doesn’t know how to act in every situation of life. (May be that's because I know you are always there.) 

Yes I am that cursed child who hurts you always. But let me remind you something. Whenever anyone asks me about my mother, the fact is, I visualize your face immediately. And you yourself can never ever change this very fact, even if you want to.

So coming back to my solitary world, there were many people to play with, as a child, but there was none whom I could rely on. Then one fine day, digging out all lost hopes, you arrived.

Blowing away all dusts of evil, you planted the seed of motherly innocence that a child always needs. I was not so small then. A fifteen-year-old girl, soon to give board exams. A teenager who was scared to let anyone know about her wounds. To let anyone know about her desires. Her scars.

You touched her heart. Nurtured it with all with your love. Showered her soul with immense care.

And with your motherly gestures, you taught me that every broken thing can be fixed easily, only if one tries to fix it.

You fixed my broken heart. And there I stand as an individual now. I hope to make you proud someday Ma.

With love,

Your one and only,

Unworthy child.